


MS-1245

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Assault, BDSM, Bondage, Character Death, Contracts, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Romance, Voluntary Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 63,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: In a world where BDSM separated the classes, Derek had been placed in a literal box at a young age and only the playful attention of a slave with as many needs as he had could bring him out of his shell. Stiles had a history of self abuse and had found stability in submission. His voluntary surrender of rights seemed perfectly right up until he met someone so worth bowing for that he was willing to help him stand upright. (Abuse tags are not Derek/Stiles.)





	1. Chapter 1

No werewolves, instincts refer to a drive to be Dominant and/or submissive  
Alpha = Dominant, dom  
Sub= submissive  
Interest in pain is not guaranteed by either group.  
Vanilla= not Dom/sub and is very rare  
Switch= Dom and sub, not allowed to enter into non-personal slave relationship  
  
This work may be triggery. Please head the tags.   
  
Professional slavery is a voluntary surrender of rights which CAN be revoked in writing, but does not include a safe word. It is more risky than a typical Dom/sub relationship but doing something that could kill a slave is illegal. Accidental injuries and mental trauma do occur, so people are required to go into slave relationships fully trained and mentally fit. Personal Slaves are less rigorous, often do have safety words or at least a hard stops list, and do not require written revocation to end the relationship. Involuntary slaver is a substitution for a prison sentence, is generally shorter than prison sentences, and has more limitations; mainly sex with an involuntary slave is not legal because they can not consent since they did not volunteer to be a slave.

 

“Mr. Stilinski, I do believe you’re an excellent candidate for our program,” Ms. Morrell stated with a warm smile, “You’ve passed your psychiatric evaluation, you display the proper tendencies, and you’re obviously eager to begin. I just have one more question for you?”

“Okay,” Stiles shifted a bit, unaccountably nervous. Something about this one felt a bit different than the boring psych evals he’d been given over the course of the last few months.

“Why do you wish to enter into a professional slave contract?” Ms. Morrell asked, eyes focused on Stiles with a new intensity.

Stiles blinked repeatedly, “I… Wow. Um. That’s quite the non sequitur there.”

Stiles’ laughter petered off as she continued to wait on his answer.

“Okay,” Stiles shifted where he knelt on a mat on the floor, hands rubbing along his jeans as they became suddenly damp from the attention leveled on him, “I guess it all starts with a lot of what we’ve discussed for the last three months; mainly me being the son of a Sherriff. I lost my mom young, which- you know- causes a whole lot of issues, but then my dad was so busy protecting everyone but me, right? I was all… teenage angst and stuff. I got in a lot of trouble. My fault. He took care of my speeding tickets and I realized that I could get away with stuff. So I… did. I stole things. I did drugs. I probably would have had wild sex but it wasn’t really something that… you know… other people were into doing with me on account of me being a super late bloomer. Like I legit _just_ grew into my arms and legs. We're talking 19 year old giraffe. Eventually his coworkers got him to let me fall on my ass and I ended up cuffed- which I liked- and carted off to juvie. I spent a few months there and it got me clean. When I came home my dad dropped a dad bomb on me. He took the doors off my bedroom and bathroom so I couldn’t hide anything easily. He had me tested for STD’s to see if I had caught anything while being an idiot. He read me every riot act in the book and showed me how much my stunts had cost him. He had me get a job to pay him back. I worked my ass off to both finish my GED and pay all the bills I’d accumulated. Eventually I completed those two tasks and my dad was content. He went back to ignoring me after giving me a half-assed speech on going to college and stuff. I was sort of like… okay. So we aren’t going to fix this?”

“Your relationship?” Morrell confirmed.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I had my head screwed on right by then, so I asked him to go to therapy with me. He shot me down.”

“You’re looking to replace your father?” Morrell asked.

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “No, I’m not interested in a ‘daddy’ by any stretch of the word. What I’m looking for is the sense of _purpose_ I had when I was slaving away for him. I’ve faltered since then. I’m smart and I could go far, and I _know_ I could, but nothing satisfies me. I don’t see any point. I have no motivation. I just want to make someone happy. I want to fulfill a purpose and I want to be useful. I know most people would look down on that as a waste or something, but it's what I _need.”_

Morrell nodded, “And you’re aware of the psychological results?”

“I passed your psych exam. I’m sane and capable of giving consent,” Stiles tapped the floor forcefully.

“But do you know what you’re consenting _to_? Stiles, you will be giving up your rights. Another person will own your body. That person can do whatever they want to you so long as you don’t die from it.”

“I know,” Stiles grinned back, “And since my body won’t belong to me… _I_ can’t do whatever I want to it.”

XXX

Derek’s family had been born majority Dominants and owned slaves for generations. In centuries past it was a revolting practice in which a person’s humanity was torn from them and they were horrifically abused. Now it was a consensual relationship insomuch as this was possible. These individuals signed away their freedom in return for lifelong care and were carefully reviewed first. People who were choosing this method due to poverty were given special dispensations that would allow them to request sanctuary and sue their ‘master’ if abuse occurred. Those who actually enjoyed the relationship type signed away their freedom to create a sense of purpose or fulfill their own needs. Those forced into it due to a crime- generally only those that harmed others were assigned such a punishment- had limitations on them regarding sex and physical harm as well as advocates if abuse occurred. Generally speaking, the system was viewed as flawless and Derek had never questioned it, treating the slaves in his household as shadows.

Like his siblings, Derek had grown up aware that the world was divided into three classes: Dominant, submissive, and switch. As a child he’d not understood what that meant any more than that some issued orders and others followed. He’d played ‘harem’ on the playground while the adults laughed at the children’s attempts to imitate adult behavior. When he’d gotten old enough for sex ed he’d found out things were actually more complex and that slaves were _very_ rare. Only rich families like his own owned them, as poorer people in relationships couldn’t afford to have their spouse stay home all day. He’d already known- based on the slaves his parents owned- that not all D/s relationship were sexual ones. What he hadn’t known was that sex came in hundreds of flavors as well. Like all youth, he was eager to experience them all, but unlike most he happened to have slaves he could experiment with. However, submissives weren't allowed to touch slaves and just as his curiosity peaked his mother slapped a label on him and the world he saw opening up before him violently narrowed.

Kate wasn’t a slave; she was as Dominant as they came. She was from another wealthy family who lived near their home. She was much older and when Derek’s family found out she was courting him _and_ had managed to deny him a contract they were horrified and cut him off from her. His parents assumed that Derek was a submissive and he was sat down for yet _another_ ‘talk’. This one consisted of warning him against Dominants who didn’t have his best interest at heart.

“You should never, ever give yourself to a Dominant without a contract, Derek,” His mother warned anxiously, “Your contract is your safety net. It tells them what they can and can’t do, it lets them know if they violate it that they _will_ go to jail.”

“What’s the point?” Derek asked angrily, “If they violate it you’re dead. They go to jail, so what? It doesn’t bring someone back.”

Talia had given Derek an absolutely terrified look, “If the urges you’re having are that dangerous…”

“I’m not having those urges, mom,” Derek huffed, “And I’m not… you know, I’m not into being hurt.”

“You’re not a masochist?”

“No,” Derek insisted, “Look, Kate was into that stuff-“

“Miss Argent,” Talia corrected, trying to put some distance between them.

“She wanted me to call her ‘hunter’,” Derek snorted, rolling his eyes, “She was pretty and… you know… she made me feel… stuff…”

Talia grimaced again and Derek was beginning to hate that expression, “Derek, she was sick. She shouldn’t have been going after a _teenager_. I know she’s pretty, and there’s nothing wrong with you being attracted to her, but her experience creates an imbalance of power that can’t be countered by a contract. It means you two would never truly be equals- in or out of the bedroom. You have to find someone your own age.”

“Fine,” Derek huffed, “Can I go now?”

“Yes, just… be safe.”

Years passed and it became unbearably clear that ‘safe’ wasn’t what Derek was attracted to. He’d been told that he was a submissive, and was constantly reminded that there was nothing wrong with being a submissive, but the women he ended up with were one disaster after another. The latest, a switch with a huge scar on her neck who seemed determined to give Derek a matching one, would spend the rest of her life in jail.

Talia was officially done, and this time he wasn’t sat down for a talking to, he was sat down with a brochure.

“Arranged marriage?” Derek asked.

“The proper kind,” Talia stated, “Fully trained dominants who will take care of you the way you apparently need.”

“Mom, this isn’t what I want. It isn’t what I _need_. Are you sure I’m a sub? Maybe that’s why I keep screwing it up. I never enjoy-”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with being a sub, Derek!” She insisted angrily.

“Yes, but I’m from a family of Domme’s and nothing about this feels right. It _never_ feels right!”

“Because you keep dating _dangerous_ women!” Talia replied sharply, “Derek, these women aren’t treating you the way a sub deserves to be treated!”

“But…” Derek struggled, trying to find the words in his mind when it was screaming at him so loudly he almost had to shout over it, “I don’t have the instincts, mom. I just don’t. I can tolerate it, but it’s not what I want. I end up with them because… I don’t know why. They’re flashy, I guess. It doesn’t make sense.”

Talia tapped her finger nails on the dining room table, “Do you believe you’re vanilla?”

“Vanilla?” Derek asked, scrunching up his nose as he recalled every violent fantasy he’d ever had.

“Vanilla people may be rare, but they’re not _unhealthy_ ,” Talia scolded lightly, “You’re certainly no Dominant, and having some Dominant traits is required to make you a switch.”

“I could… I could be Dominant?” Derek tried weakly, and that internal screaming went up a notch at how pathetic his attempt had been.

Talia gave him a pointed look and Derek dropped his eyes as he’d been taught to do. She made an amused sound and tapped the paper in his hands.

“Look through the brochure. Go to the website. You have until Friday and then I _will_ be choosing a spouse for you. Your input is allowed, but this is it, Derek.”

“Wait, _you’re_ choosing a spouse for me?” Derek asked angrily, “I thought it would be me picking someone you deemed safe! This is… it’s archaic! It’s ridiculous! Mom, I don’t want this!”

“Would you like to talk about how many family members Jennifer put in danger again?”

“No, but-“

“Or the ransom we just paid for you?”

“No,” Derek huffed.

“Then this isn’t up for discussion. You are a sub who seems _permanently_ in sub frenzy. You’re out of control, and I won’t endure it any longer,” She stood up and left and Derek frowned down at the pamphlet, once again regretting his life choices.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Kneel!” The instructor ordered.

The entire room dropped down to their knees, eyes front, and expressions clear, with hands at their sides.

The instructor snapped his fingers twice.

Stiles couldn’t see the rest of his group when he fully dropped down, hands on either side of his head and his forehead on the floor. It was cool and smelled like feet. Not cool. He’d have to see if he could hint to the leaders that he’d like to mop it that night. He was still working on being subtle in his requests since too much directness resulted in being punished or derailed onto something else. He was meant to be sentient furniture, not a servant who spoke and thought for himself.

“Chair!”

Speaking of furniture… Stiles moved up to hands and knees, letting his head hang and keeping his back firm enough to be sat upon at either shoulders or hips.

“Doggy style!”

Stiles still had to sniffle a snicker at that one. The teachers were _not_ amused by his juvenile antics. Instead Stiles lifted his head to correct the arch of his back and moved his knees further apart.

“Kneel!”

Back up again. This was tedious and his ADD was making him crazy, but the authority had it’s own rush. He often went into his room at night and jerked off to the memory of all the repetitive, annoying shit he’d been asked to do. He didn’t find his instructors attractive, per se, but he sure as hell loved the act of submitting.

“Tea!”

Stiles and his classmates hurried to prepare the perfect tea- British style because his teacher thought he was an aristocrat- and serve it on a row of small tables. Once their task was complete they backed away while bowing to stand silent with eyes downcast to await his review. He walked along and prepared and sipped each cup of tea before stopping at the end of the tables.

“Tomorrow begins your final leg of training,” The man stated, “Up until now training has been simple.”

The teacher paused to let that sink in and Stiles mentally cursed, but outwardly kept his face a strict blank. How had any of _this_ been _simple_? True, the acts were simple, but mindless obedience had it’s own price and part of that was schooling oneself in the extreme.

“Tomorrow,” The teacher boomed, “Begins your sexual training. Those of you who are virginal will be skipping the physical aspect for visual training in order to boost your price when sold. Your price pays for your training and the higher the price the more in our pockets, so don't disappoint us or you'll be working off your debt here. You will practice with toys so you have adequate oral skills. Don’t think this is easier. They will be less prepared for what your future owners will be doing to you. The rest of you will be used and used _thoroughly_.”

_Fuck, I’m getting hard. I hope that doesn’t get me punished. Is being sprung as a slave an issue?_

“Dismissed.”

As required of them whenever in public, Stiles walked silently away with as little contact with his surroundings as possible. It wasn’t until they were in their rooms- which boasted little privacy and from which they could be summoned at any time- that the group was able to speak again.

“Sexual training?!” Isaac burst out.

“Duh, what did you think, that you would be a maid? This is serious shit, idiot,” Erica piped up.

“Will they let us come?” Danny worried.

“Will they _help_ us come?” Jackson leered.

No one knew. Stiles has read sexual training was a part of their lessons, but he’d not really taken it seriously until this moment. He’d figured it would be like sex ed had been in school, with perhaps a bit more emphasis on _how_ it was done. He’d never done more than give another guy a blow job so he was more than a bit worried. He’d be spared the ‘used from every hole’ aspect, but like the instructor had said, it meant he was going into a home unprepared. He’d be virginal, nervous, and unlikely to walk away without some form of psychological damage.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed.

XXX

“No,” Derek stated as he stormed into his mother’s office.

“Did you just-?!” She gaped in shock.

Derek tore up the brochure in outrage and scattered the contents on her desk. It said arranged marriage on the cover, but inside the truth was laid bare. Slavery. Voluntary, but slavery nonetheless, and Derek was suddenly watching those in their employ with fear clenching his heart. Were they all willing? Were any of them? Or had disgusted parents sold them to the highest bidder when they turned out to be uncontrollable teens? He watched their blank eyes over and again trying to figure out if they were silently screaming for help and it was _terrifying_ questioning what he’d been born to and grown up with.

“I know you might end up with a man, but-“ Talia started.

“No,” Derek replied, “Absolutely not. I’m not doing this. I’ll kill myself first.”

“Derek, you’re out of control!” She argued, ignoring his threat completely.

“I’ll take a vow of celibacy,” Derek stated, “I’ll stop dating. I’m not becoming human furniture to a complete stranger just so you can stop worrying about me.”

“Derek, you have needs-“

“You don’t care about my needs,” Derek scoffed, “You’re trying to get me out of your hair. Fine. I’ll finish my college courses. I’ll start my career. You can stop worrying, because you’ve sufficiently shocked me into obedience. I’m done with people, okay? We’re done.”

“Derek,” Talia pleaded, “I want you to be happy.”

“And this?” Derek indicated the shredded paper, “This is what you expect will make me happy? Do you even _know_ me? No, you don’t. Because you’ve been so busy telling me who I am for _years_.”

“You’ve shown nothing but submissive tendencies!” Talia threw her hands up in frustration, “Enough with denying it!”

“I’m not a _sub_ ,” Derek insisted, “I don’t even care anymore. I’ll be asexual. I don’t care.”

“You can’t _choose_ your sexuality, Derek!”

“Neither can you!” Derek snapped, “It’s my body, mom. I’m not interested in this lifestyle and I never will be. Will you force me? Sell me like a piece of furniture?”

“You know I legally can’t.”

“Then we’re done here,” Derek stated firmly, and left her office with his head held high and his hands clenched into fists. As he rounded the corner on his way back to his room a heady feeling overtook him. For a moment he felt giddy and swayed on his feet, leaning against the wall as the room spun a bit and a slightly hysterical giggle swelled in his throat. The moment was so alarming to him that he tamped it back down again, confused at how strangely elated he’d felt over defying his mother. She was effectively a platonic Domme to him. He should feel good for obeying her, not disobeying.

_Maybe I’m more broken than even my mother knows._

XXX

The next day was as dreary as their group was grim. The future slaves were led back to the large training room. Most of it was clear with a kitchen in one corner and a sitting room in another. They didn’t stay there for long. They made breakfast for their temporary owners but, as sometimes happened, were not allowed to eat themselves. Stiles had tried to sneak food once and had been caned for it. He liked passive discipline but wasn’t keen on punishment so he’d learned to go without.

They were led through a set of doors and Stiles tensed at the sight. It looked like the tumble mat set up from school when they had that awesome Olympics themed gym lesson a few times a year. It was far more ominous as the group was split between virginal and experienced. A few slaves broke the rules by giving Stiles a shocked look and they got a sharp slap for their guffaws as he stood with the virgins with his back straight and his eyes a careful blank. At the snap of a finger they dropped to their faces. At another order they kneeled up.

Stiles watched in growing horror as the rest of his class was lined up and one after another the teachers fucked them savagely. There was no consideration of their needs beyond the bare requirement to not harm them. The men were drugged if they couldn’t become erect for the female instructors. They were forbidden to ejaculate, but ridden aggressively in ways that had to be intensely stimulating. Their mouths, asses, vaginas, were all used over and again. One woman pegged them to give them a feel for toys. Then they were ordered to ‘perform’ despite clear exhaustion, pairing up in whichever way they were ordered. Finally they were simply dismissed without an ounce of aftercare and Stiles was left with his knees shaking and a traitorous semi on view for all to see. He was guided to a toy on a chair and taught how to fellate it, and his actions were repeated until they were _perfect_ and his throat was so sore he couldn’t swallow without wincing.

Then came the sadism. Stiles wasn’t much of a masochist, more of a casual interest, but they weren’t concerned with his interests. He was put over a chair and spanked for a warm up, and then they went straight into far more serious aspects. Stiles couldn’t even call it watersports because it wasn’t sexual for either party, just a part of his introduction to being a slave that Master could piss on him at will. By the time they were through with him he was covered in bruises, had a broken toe (not intentional, but these things happen) had several minor burns from being roughed up while cooking the instructors dinner, had experienced e-stim for the first time, and had been soundly introduced to the power of another persons whim. Stiles hadn’t been degraded so soundly since high school.

“I hope you all understand what you will be accepting with your contract,” The instructor stated, “You will wash up and eat dinner. Tomorrow you will graduate. Dismissed.”

Stiles showered because he was told to despite being exhausted and famished. They’d been kept without food since breakfast and bathroom breaks had happened where they stood followed by a tirade while they cleaned up the mess they’d made. He was just glad he hadn’t been sodomized like the others. Two hadn’t had clean passages and had been not only punished for that but forced to clean themselves thoroughly while the class watched. Stiles didn’t jerk off afterwards. He could hear people sobbing in the stalls around him, but he didn’t try to comfort them. It wouldn’t be welcome. He hadn’t been through what they had.

Stiles ate mechanically and crawled into bed naked. He hadn’t worn clothing since signing his initial papers and had long since become comfortable with being constantly naked. However, the lesson that day had him reconsidering his decision to become someone’s personal _nothing_. He could still back out. He had a choice… for now.

The next morning Stiles was allowed to eat after having prepared breakfast for his instructors. The tone was somber and calm, with not a single voice raised. In fact, they were barely acknowledged. Their class of twelve had been reduced to five and Stiles and Isaac were the only virgins left in their ranks. After breakfast he signed his freedom away, and if his hand shook his teacher made no comment. He was led to a room to have the tattoos he’d lovingly had put on his body removed and a new one put in their place. MS-1245

Stiles was officially a slave.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Derek had known enough people with various mental illnesses to recognize obsessive thoughts when he had them, and he was in fact obsessed. Derek had started at the library to ease his mind, talked to his mother’s politician friends, and become absolutely preoccupied in the history of slavery. Some of it was the gruesome sort that was now illegal: those who were abducted from their homes and forced into unpaid servitude while being violated in all ways. These weren’t the sort who were kept at his own home, nor had that sort of activity been legal for centuries. Now only submissives were even _allowed_ to be slaves, and they had to pass rigorous testing and training first. There were a few places where indentured servitude was still used in lue of prison for crimes, but it was generally far less invasive than slavery was and obviously had a sentenced limit and restrictions.

There were personal relationships as well; individuals who were in love or otherwise committed to each other that decided to have a BDSM relationship that involved a complete bodily surrender agreement. Derek didn’t just read about these, he fantasized. He studied various relationship styles. He memorized common contract styles. He pictured couples from his favorite television shows engaging in kink negotiation, debating what they would and wouldn’t be comfortable doing, and the submissive of the pair giving themselves fully to their dominant, trusting them completely, and the culmination of their sexual fulfillment under their new relationship. He brought himself off with these vibrant new fantasies, but was deeply ashamed of his own ardor. He’d refused his mother’s solution of sending him into serfdom under the theory that he needed a firmer hand from a Domme than he was getting from most women. He still felt repulsed at the idea of being either a personal or family thrall, but then he’d never found satisfaction with the women he’d let dominate him. Perhaps he just didn’t know what he wanted. Perhaps his new fixation was just the first step in accepting who he was and what he needed and signing the papers his mother had proposed. Or perhaps, as the thoughts niggling in the back of his head kept suggesting, he didn’t fit in with the submissive idealization he’d been led to believe his entire life. He didn’t _want_ to submit. He didn’t _crave_ a Dom’s attention as he was told he should, yet he was constantly told there wasn’t a dominant bone in his body.

_I’m broken._

It was while he was still in the midst of the fantasies he was ashamed of that his mother lost three of her slaves. Two of them had decided to end their voluntary bondage and return to a standard D/s relationship style, and a third inherited funds and decided to start dating to find a single owner rather than a family to serve. Since they didn’t have many to begin with, and Talia’s extended family lived with them, losing three within a few weeks was quite a blow to the household’s ability to stay functional. Talia quickly contacted a service and they informed them that a few slaves had just graduated. They could either take the new ones and send them back if they didn’t work out or required a few more lessons, or they could wait for more experienced slaves to become available. Talia was already ankle deep in Derek’s cousin’s toys so she agreed to have the novices come in.

Derek made sure he was present when they arrived, and his mother gave him a frustrated look as the two young men and woman arrived. She ignored him in favor of studying their charges. Each presented their papers while standing straight and staring off into space. They _never_ made eye contact, not even when Talia unintentionally stepped into their line of sight. Once she finished skimming their papers and accepted them they would drop down into a deep bow with their foreheads on the floor. The two boys were both handsome, one in a striking way and the other cute and with humor dancing in his eyes. The woman was gorgeous and probably could have modeled had she wished to. She also had a permanently disgusted look on her face that Derek decided was her version of resting bitch face. He worried she’d be beaten for it, but Talia wasn’t looking at their faces. They were non-entities to her, and to emphasize this as their position all of them had shaved heads. They were manikins.

“Your duties,” She stated after having reviewed the papers, “Will be to care for this household. You are responsible for the kitchens, linens, and landscaping. If called upon you will perform personal duties as well. At times childcare will be required of you, but you will be taught the nuances first as Master Peter and his submissive are very particular in their care. The submissives in this household are also your masters, and you will treat them as such even if they do not order you as a dominant would. We have two servants as well and you will obey them. Scott is one such servant. He will take you to the slave quarters where you will find a uniform, cot, and personal items. Deaton is our butler and is in charge of all your needs and any additional training you may need. Deaton’s office is beside the slave quarters, but he and Scott do not live on the grounds. You will request everything you need in writing and place it in the mail slot at Deaton’s office. Only medical emergencies outside of Deaton’s hours are to be brought to my attention. Scott?”

Scott led the three along while Derek watched, aroused and ashamed. He didn’t meet his mother’s eyes as she headed towards him.

“Derek, what are you doing lurking about like this?” Talia asked, “Have you reconsidered?”

“No,” Derek replied honestly, “I don’t want that lifestyle.”

Talia seemed to relax a bit, but then tensed again, “But do you need it?”

Derek hesitated and shook his head, “I’ve got work to do. I have finals in a month.”

Talia let him go, but there was pain and uncertainty in her eyes. Derek passed the family photos on their personal floor, the one guests never saw, and frowned at all the images lining the walls. He had an older and younger sister and a younger brother. All of them were dominant. In each picture the group were smiling and waving to the camera… except for Derek and his father Jethro. Jethro had his eyes averted or even downcast and Derek always had his head tilted to one side or down. There were still smiles- Jethro always smiled softly while Derek had a wry twist or a bright, toothy grin- but he never looked directly at the camera and Derek was tempered. Derek couldn’t attribute it to who was holding the camera as the person was usual Deaton, their family’s beloved and respected butler. He was a switch, but not an overly dominant one, so there was no reason for Jethro or Derek to avoid meeting his eyes. The assumption on both their parts was that a dominant would see the pictures, at the very least Talia, Laura, and Cora. Derek and Jethro would not meet the eyes of even a future imagined Dom.

 _No wonder my family has me pegged as a submissive_ , Derek thought as he paused to stare at a photo of himself as a five-year-old boy, _Even as a small child I was so demure. Why? There’s this boiling something inside of me. It isn’t anger. It’s not sadness. It’s something complex and confusing as hell. I’m too old to be thinking and feeling like this. This is teenage angst bullshit. Why am I reconsidering my entire self in my late twenties? I can’t even decide on a major, but I need to re-address my sexuality and preferences? If I’m not dominant and I’m not submissive, what am I?_

Derek huffed in frustration. It wasn't just his sexual life he had issues in. His professional life was going no where fast. He’d gone for the Bar first, intending on following his mother’s footsteps to become a lawyer. He hadn’t had the capacity for it, though he’d done well in his studies. His teachers all had smiled at him fondly. _It isn’t that a submissive can’t be a lawyer, in fact I know quite a few who are superior to myself, it’s just that this isn’t the right line of work for you_.

They all assumed they knew what was best for him. Every Dominant Derek had ever run across had done so. They’d all decided for him when he’d gone astray of their expectations. They’d had his withdrawal papers written up before he’d even been informed that he wasn’t suited to be a lawyer. Informed, not asked. Not encouraged to try harder. Just… told. And expected to be obeyed. He’d left without a second thought and poured through the registration booklet to choose another major. He’d tried nursing, but part of him had known it was because it was Laura's choice. He’d not been bothered by blood or needles, so it seemed a sound choice. They’d told him he wasn’t delicate enough with the patients straight off the bat. Day one. He didn’t have the comforting aura of a submissive. That had been his first indication that something wasn’t quite right with his ‘preference’ of submissive aside from his shitty relationships. Somehow he wasn’t satisfying as a sub even to a _stranger_ in need of care. Derek had left and re-enrolled under woodworking, imitating his father. Surely that would work out?

 _It won’t,_ Derek’s mind supplied, _You’re not suited for anything. You should just do what your mother commands, roll over, and be someone’s bitch_.

Derek shuddered. His mean inner voice always sounded like Kate. She’d had such absolutely terrifying plans for him. They were plans that would have left him broken and scarred for life. Plans that his family had halted before they could become the deadly event that he now saw they were headed towards.

Derek entered his rooms and their sole remaining slave stopped making his bed and scuttled to the wall, placing her back there and staring down at the carpet. She would wait unobtrusively until he left or gave her some indication that she could work around him. Derek felt a jolt of desire run through him. Some odd urge to lie down on top of her half-finished work and bring himself off while she stood there, silent and immobile by the presence of a ‘master', even if he were a submissive one. Derek didn’t feel like her master, and once that thought settled his desire fled. He was tired. Tired and angry and hurt by the world’s confusing spectrum. He’d grown up knowing his place and now he felt as if the platform of ‘submissive male’ had tipped to one side and he were struggling to balance on it without making a fool of himself in front of an auditorium full of judging eyes.

“Get out,” Derek gestured to the door, “I can make my own damn bed.”

She fled; eyes down and an alarmed look carefully smothered. She was probably just worried that he hadn’t been satisfied with her work and would beat her, but Derek just wanted privacy. He’d never even considered their presence until recently to _be_ intrusive. He tried to cast back in his mind and found that there were times he _had_ masturbated while one worked nearby. He’d just thought of them as furniture. Moving furniture that cleaned, cooked, and occasionally minded his cousins.

_It’s not just my own specific island of thought that’s sinking; it’s the entire world. I am questioning more than my own existence, I’m questioning everything I know. I need help. I need… meds or something. I need…_

Derek’s circulatory thoughts on what he might need slipped away as he pulled the blankets over his head and fell asleep fully dressed with just one shoe kicked off. He was emotionally and mentally drained, and his sister finding him in such a state would set off a chain reaction that was beyond his control.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s not well,” Mistress Talia told Deaton as Stiles knelt beside the butler’s desk, “I don’t know what to do, Deaton. He’s doesn't bathe, won't let the slave clean his _filthy_ rooms, he's moody, and there are other unpleasant things.”

“What sort of unpleasant things, Mistress?” Deaton asked, smiling up at her as he knelt _behind_ his desk. It looked ridiculous but Stiles has already been head-slapped by Submissive Jethro for snickering at Deaton once and he wasn’t looking forward to another head jogging. Submissive Jethro was also kneeling, though his was to calm his anxious wife rather than to ‘stand’ on protocol.

“I’ll catch him staring at the slaves. _Staring at them_ and acting like a sulky, inquisitive teenager! He’s too old for this nonsense! The other day he was staring into slave 3314’s eyes so that he _couldn’t look away_. Every time he moved his eyes, Derek moved to meet his gaze! I had to send him to his room like a child! I’m certain his strange behavior and breech of etiquette is why those three left. They’d been with our family for over a decade!”

Stiles frowned, wondering who they’d been. Names were left behind as a slave, but surely Deaton had known them in some close way. Had this Derek fellow been abusing them without anyone knowing? His mother certainly seemed suspicious of his behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for teenagers in a family to experiment with slaves according to what he’d learned in his lessons. Stiles was to report anything unhealthy- as in a danger to his life- to Deaton, but he was required to tolerate the rest. He was a slave, not a servant like Scott and Deaton. He had no actual say in what was done to him beyond life preservation. It was entirely possible that the young man was depraved and his appetite had driven even hardened slaves to ‘free’ themselves.

“Clear your expression,” Deaton said softly, but his tone had taken a forceful enough edge that Stiles knew it was directed at him and forced his face and mind blank. Deaton continued, “Mistress, I can see that Submissive Derek isn’t well, but I’m afraid I have little to offer.”

 _Ah, so he’s a submissive!_ Stiles thought, much relieved, _Then he’s probably watching them because he wants to be a slave or has some fantasy of sorts. They’re being ridiculous. Just let him experiment. He’ll get over it or join ranks. The end._

Mistress Talia snorted, “Deaton, I know that you are a trained physician. This may be the lifestyle you chose, but you’ve cared for our slaves as your father and mother had my own parent’s serfs and slaves. You’re not just some… You could _help him_.”

“I have no prescriptive abilities,” Deaton replied, giving her a sorrowful glance up, “I left my licenses incomplete because my heart belonged here tending to you and your family. I have knowledge but no power.”

“Than that’s it?” She asked breathlessly, “You think only medicine could help?”

“I believe Submissive Derek needs someone to talk to,” Deaton replied softly, “And that that person is not myself. He did try to come to me… but sometimes the person one needs and the person who is available are not the same.”

“He needs a therapist?” She asked, shifting as if to pace only to find the office too small between all the people on their knees and the walls. She took to gripping her husband’s shoulder and digging in her nails to comfort herself. He hissed in pain but the twist to his lips was almost a challenge. He was a masochist, no doubt.

“I believe so, yes,” Deaton replied, “But my skills do not lie in the mind.”

Mistress Talia looked torn, “I don’t want to send him to someone. Every instinct in my mind is screaming to hold him like a child, but he’s an adult! I don’t even know what’s wrong. He’s shut me out since I tried to… I’ve made a terrible mistake and I don’t even know why it was wrong. He was acting as if he needed a firmer hand; even just some extra instruction if not a slave lifestyle. His behavior indicated sub frenzy but he tells me he doesn’t enjoy being dominated!”

_Okay... so not a teenager, but he's acting like one? Weird._

“It could have indicated sub frenzy,” Deaton nodded.

Stiles glanced at Deaton at the careful hint in his voice, but looked away before his motion could be noted and he’d receive a punishment for it. He could feel Submissive Jethro’s gaze on him, looking for an excuse to punish him for stepping out of line. He was on probation with the Hales and was worried misbehaving would get him sent back. Deaton seemed to believe that Mistress Talia was wrong about her son, but in what way the servant was not free to express without being directly asked and _she wasn’t getting the hint_. Something was seriously fucked up and Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the middle of it. A Sub who didn’t want to be dominated? Weird and a bit… sociopathic.

“I’m going to try to talk to him about seeing someone,” Mistress Talia sighed, “Maybe you could get through to him, darling?”

Mistress Talia’s hand carded through Submissive Jethro’s hair and for a moment a look of bliss crossed his face. Stiles felt a curl of disgust and jealousy in his belly and tamped it down. He’d fucked around with Dom’s. It had gotten him hurt and hooked on dope because apparently he was a terrible judge of character. He needed a firm but cold hand, not an embrace with a sharp edge; especially not from someone who was just trying to score a new customer rather than a loyal submissive.

“Yes, my queen.”

Mistress Talia left and Stiles’ shoulders relaxed.

“Don’t make me punish you again, MS-1245,” Deaton spoke, his voice sharp, “You are at attention. Stay that way until dismissed.”

Stiles sharpened his kneeling stance and remained that way for another hour while this lower back and neck ached. Finally Deaton was done filling out the household expenses- from his comfortable spot in a nice leather chair- and he stood up, stretched, and snapped his finger once. Stiles stood up on tingling feet and managed _not_ to fall on his face as he followed the man to the next room. There he was directed with sharp words over a blueprint of the mansion that housed all twelve Hales, two servants, and four slaves.

“For the last two weeks SG-1242 has been in charge of cleaning all of the bedrooms since we were overwhelmed in other parts of the household. We’ll be dividing them up from now on and each slave will have duties there and elsewhere. You will be in charge of Submissive Derek Hale’s rooms as well as breakfast and dinner in the kitchens. He has two rooms to himself and a bathroom. You will tidy them daily, make his bed, and scrub his bathroom. All his preferred products are listed on a sheet on the inside cabinet of his medicine cabinet. If he runs low you will reorder them by writing them on a slip and leaving them in the mailbox outside my office. There is no need to speak to me directly unless you are injured or in danger. You will vacuum his rooms and the hall and stairs weekly and as needed. All of Submissive Derek Hale’s laundry is your responsibility. You will never address him. You will never look at him. You will never _laugh_ around him. You will be unobtrusive. Do you understand why I am giving _you_ his rooms?”

Stiles paused, he wasn’t used to speaking to his superiors anymore and for a moment he just blinked at the blueprint.

“MS-1245?”

“Uhm… because I overheard that conversation and you could see me thinking about it?”

“Correct,” He replied, “You will serve him with that knowledge. You will stay safe around him or you will come to me. Do you understand?”

Stiles frowned, “You think he’s dangerous.”

“I would never say that about one of my masters, and neither will you. You will be respectful and _loyal_.”

“I will be respectful and loyal,” Stiles replied with a sharp nod.

“MS-1245, your leisure time is whenever you are not needed. If Submissive Derek rings his bell you will reply unless you are on death’s door. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles replied immediately.

“Go perform your duties, slave.”

Stiles performed a quick standing bow and hurried off to perform his duties. It was after breakfast, Stiles having been punished for sassing Deaton by not being allowed to participate. Frankly, kneeling by his desk for an entire breakfast stint was punishment enough that he would _never_ question his assigned bedding again. He’d sadly been under the impression that they’d have beds, but the slaves were only given cots in a small 10X10 room. They were so uncomfortable that he could only lie on his back and had barely slept all night. He was exhausted and their bedding was frugal and rough. It was all under the assumption that all slaves were craving the walk-on-me lifestyle. Stiles had signed up for that… in public. He’d thought he’d have a nice bed to sleep in afterwards and a modicum of privacy. He didn’t even have the curtained off area he’d had in slave training for wank privacy. His body belonged to the family and if they walked into the room he shared with three others he was required to jump to his feet, bow, and be at their disposal. The teachers had been right: he wasn’t prepared. However, as he set about scrubbing the toilet of one Submissive Derek Hale the tension began to drain from his shoulders. Slavery wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t glorious subspace as he knelt at his master’s feet. It was hard drudgery and people who were barely aware of his existence, and it was exactly what he needed to function.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was a man this time, one of the new slaves who had showed up two days prior. It was the cute one with the quirky mouth, and now that Derek was closer he’d noted some moles on his cheeks. Derek was surprised they hadn’t been removed prior to him being situated since anything unique was usually wiped off of a slave. Derek watched as the slave carefully avoided contact and obtrusiveness while tidying up his room. He separated whites and colors into a rolling laundry cart that if Derek passed by he’d quickly snatch out of his way. Derek paced his room for a bit, amused by the way the slave had to dart away from him. After a while of Derek pacing, his thoughts on his future and what he might want to do with his life consumed him and he began to act unconsciously. After a bit he realized that he’d been toying with the slave without meaning to. The slave had noticed it first and was trying to smother a grin as he tugged the cart aside and quickly tossed in a sock that Derek had pulled out of a drawer and thrown angrily onto the floor while contemplating his career choice.

Derek couldn’t help the laugh that tore from him, “I wasn’t even…”

Derek gestured to the floor and his dresser but the slave stayed mute, forcing his face into a blank expression as he dropped to the floor in a complete bow upon being addressed. Derek stilled, desire shooting through him as he stared down at the supplicant form. His breath was short and he stood staring down at the man wanting to rip the clothes off of him. His family’s uniform was a simple pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt. In some families they worked in the nude, but it was completely impractical for a family that didn’t use them for sex. Not that he _couldn’t_ …

Derek adjusted his erection in his pants, trying to figure out what he wanted. What would he even do with a slave? Technically he could just use him like a hole to fuck, but it was considered bad form for a submissive to do that. He could also be kind and help him orgasm. He might even ask him first if he actually _liked_ men. Derek realized that he was in over his head and shook himself out of his desires.

“I’m…” Derek paused, “You can stand. Do your work. I won’t interfere again.”

The man hurried to his feet, rolled the laundry bin out of the door, and vanished down the hallway while Derek stood there feeling incomplete and oddly satisfied at the same time. He’d gotten a rush of excitement when the slave had stood to obey him but when he’d left Derek had felt bereft. He wanted him back. Derek glanced at the bell on the wall. If he pressed the button a light would flicker in every room in the house and an alarm would blare in the slave quarters. He’d rung it a few times as a small child, just to see what would happen. His mother had eventually told him to stop annoying the slaves if he didn’t need something and explained to him that he wasn’t to abuse them. He’d been confused and chastised.

Derek waited nearly an hour, trying to study while he actually replayed the slave’s actions in his mind over and again. Finally Derek gave up and hit the button to summon the slave. He immediately regretted it, because he had nothing for the slave to actually _do_. Derek cast about frantically, then ran into his room, poured himself a glass of water, and threw it onto the floor.

What Derek hadn’t planned on, was the aforementioned light that went off in _every room_ of the house. The slave boy wasn’t the only one that saw that light go off, he was just the only one who was supposed to _respond_ since he was- Derek assumed- the one assigned to his rooms now that they had enough serfs in the house. What Derek didn’t count on was his mother’s curiosity after years of him not bothering to alert the slaves of his needs. A quick knock had Derek frowning in confusion. Slaves only knocked if they _weren’t_ summoned, otherwise they were on a race to obey according to what Derek had read and experienced. It was part of their training. When Derek didn’t reply to the knock it repeated more forcefully. Derek frowned and headed over to answer it since the thick door wouldn’t allow the person on the other side to hear him easily.

His mother frowned up at him when Derek opened the door and he frowned right back at her.

“What’s wrong?” Talia asked.

“Nothing,” Derek replied quickly.

“You’re lying again,” She sighed, “You have a tell. Why? What’s _wrong_?”

“I just spilled a glass of water,” Derek replied.

“You just lied _again_!” She snapped.

Derek stepped aside and gestured at the cup on the floor in the little wet mark on the carpet to prove his truth. The slave arrived a second later, with only half his uniform on and a flush to his cheeks. Derek’s face went bright red at the sight of the shirtless slave who gave Talia a horrified look and dropped to the floor in obeisance. Talia glanced at the slave and snapped her finger to order him to rise, stepping aside so he could enter Derek’s rooms. Derek pointed to the puddle and the slave hurried to fetch towels and begin sopping it up. He kept his head down and his face blank this time as Derek watched him clean.

“Derek,” Talia gestured for him to step out into the hallway but Derek wanted to watch him clean. He followed her out by walking sideways and standing in eyesight in the hallway, “Derek, you _can’t stare at them_.”

“Hm?” Derek wondered, completely distracted by his surprisingly corded muscles. The shirt hadn't done him justice and while Derek favored women he wasn't opposed to a fine specimen of man.

“Derek, it’s rude. It’s counter to why they’re here and what they want and need. They’re meant to be unobtrusive, serving us without being acknowledged. Their behavior is self-controlled to avoid punishment, and punishment is the only attention they should get besides constant, regular care in the form of their needs being met. Needs only. It’s a life of _minimalism_. You watching them is just… it’s not _normal_. It’s… It’s _creepy._ ”

“Then don’t watch me watch them,” Derek replied flatly, his irritation growing. He wanted her gone. He wanted to ‘creep’ on him without his fucking mother hanging over him, “If they're so unobtrusive and obedient than they can obediently and unobtrusively ignore me staring at them.”

“Derek, this is…” Talia seemed at a loss for words.

“What? Harmful? I’ve already done harmful things. This is _harmless_. If you think he’s uncomfortable with me watching him than prove it and I'll stop.”

“How?” She asked, looking honestly baffled.

“Well, you could _ask him,”_ Derek replied, shocked she hadn't considered it, “I haven't heard him do so, but I'm betting he can speak. They're educated just like us, aren't they?”

“It just isn’t done,” She replied in a shocked whisper.

“Sure it is. If abuse is suspected or medical needs are an issue we talk to them. We can talk. They can talk. It’s a thing that people do.”

Talia paused a moment and then walked across to the young man who was pulling a trash bag out of the utility belt at his hip to place all the wet towels in to transport them to the laundry room. He paused as Talia approached him, seemed to consider his options, and shifted to bow directly at her feet with his head avoiding the still damp carpet. Talia let out a frustrated breath.

“I realize this is uncommon and that it may disrupt your training,” Talia stated, giving Derek an accusing glance, “I order you to answer me honestly. Is Derek’s… attention… making you uncomfortable or disrupting your satisfaction with your station?”

“No, but my cot is miserably hard and hurts my everything,” The slave stated flatly.

Derek snorted. Talia blinked in surprise.

“Your _everything_ ,” She stated, irritation showing through in her voice. The slave was oblivious to all the warning she was putting off and Derek's eyebrows went up at his lack of self preservation.

“Yeah, my everything. Back if I lie that way. Hips if I lie on my side. I’m used to sleeping on my side and I can’t because I’ll wake up with a dead arm and aching hips. That’s why I didn’t put a shirt on. I was hurrying here but I couldn’t feel my fucking- sorry, _freaking_ \- arm so it took me ages to get here. I could be faster and more efficient if I got quality sleep and weren’t in pain all the time. Eventually when I get older it could contribute to me no longer being able to work here because any kind of joint issue would be _severely_ worsened by those sleeping conditions. I wouldn’t be shocked if that were why your previous slaves left. They were older, to my understanding.”

Talia gaped at Derek who grinned back at her in amusement. She seemed to think she'd proven a point but Derek wasn't seeing it.

“See? Talking to them is good,” He stated.

Talia huffed in frustration, “Talking to them is _not part of their lifestyle._ MS-1245 you should place any medical related issues with Deaton, including the quality of your cots.”

“I did, but-“

“Also,” She snapped, outrage entering her voice enough that the slave stiffened in alarm, “I asked you a specific question. You will, if in the future you are ever addressed, give me a direct answer, not petition for extra perks or derail onto another line of conversation. You will be punished for your transgression. Stand and bend over Submissive Derek’s bed.”

Derek was absolutely horrified and also painfully intrigued. Their previous slaves had been with them for ages and never stepped out of line within Derek’s view. He was aware that one had raised a voice to Peter’s bratty children once and been punished, but that had been done when he wasn’t present. Now Derek watched with shamefully growing arousal as the young man took down his trousers and submitted to several sharp slaps across his ass. Derek craned his neck anxiously to make sure she wasn’t harming him even as he watched his flesh turn pink. She gave him five sharp slaps, which he endured without making a sound, and then stepped away while he pulled his trousers back up. Derek could see his ass was red and would likely bruise from her strength. He also had a few moles on his bum that Derek itched to lick and bite. _Wait, bite?_ His eyes followed the slave as he hurried to collect the bag of wet towels and leave their presence with his head lowered and expression blank. A bit of color on his cheeks was the only tell that he felt any of it.

“Derek,” Talia’s voice was soft as MS-1245 shut the door behind himself, “I’m going to ask you a few questions and if you lie I _will_ be forced to take drastic action.”

 _Shit_. _Shit. Shit._ Derek’s brain chanted, _I’m not even aware I’m lying sometimes until she tells me_.

“I can’t…” Derek huffed.

“Are you attracted to me sexually?” She asked out of the blue.

“What?! Fucking _no!_ ” Derek shrieked, voice cracking like a teenager as he gave her a horrified look and took a step back in revulsion.

“Thank gods,” She breathed, looking relieved and then gesturing to his bed where she'd punished the serf, “Are you attracted to violence?”

“I… I think?” Derek replied awkwardly, “I don’t know, mom, this is weird. I don’t want to talk about this.”

Talia sighed, “Deaton thinks you should see a therapist and that getting you on an antidepressant might be a good option.”

Derek shrugged, “Why? I’m not sad.”

“You’re not _happy_ ,” She replied.

“Can you answer a question for _me_?” Derek snarled.

“Okay.”

“Why do Dom’s get to decide my feelings for me?”

“Derek,” Talia sighed.

“No, I’m serious,” Derek snapped, “You’ve decided who I am, what my interests are, who I date, who I don’t date, how I kink, what I eat every day, how much I get to drink when we’re having a party, _every aspect of my life._ A Dom at school decided the job I wanted wasn’t the right one for me and just sent me packing off to choose another. I’m sure if he’d been closer to me personally he’d have decided which one _was_ right for me. You’ve got me hovering on this threat of sending me off to be a slave because you don’t like my sex life- which I’ve _admitted_ I regret, but I'm not allowed to even see if Domming someone is right for me! I’ve got _no options_. No _choices_ that I can make on my own except when I bathe and how I dress, and those are apparently indicative of depression! Fine. You want me to bathe, I will.”

Derek walked across the room and slapped the button on the wall again.

“Derek, what are you doing?” She huffed, “Why are you so obsessed with the slaves?!”

“You threatened to make me one, I’m curious!”

“I never threatened!” She argued, “It was an _option!_ A _choice!_ I’m not holding it over your head!”

“You just said you’d have to take drastic action if I lied to you!”

“I meant hospitalization!”

“You think I’m crazy?! Really?!” Derek snapped back.

The slave arrived, much faster this time but also much more haggard. His eyes were red from exhaustion and he’d clearly not undressed this time. He had his shirt on this time, but his pants were wrinkled from having been pressed against the cot he’d complained about. He was still hurriedly fastening his work belt.

“Draw me a bath,” Derek ordered, pointing to his bathroom.

The slave hurried to obey and Derek walked towards his door, holding it open for his mother and motioning for her to leave while brazenly meeting her eyes. She gestured to her chin and he raised an eyebrow defiantly. She looked furious but also hesitant. She headed for the door practically vibrating with the urge to punish him. She refrained, probably recognizing that it would blow up in her face if she did.

“This isn’t over,” She told him firmly.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Derek relied sharply, “Like I told you before: The second I have a career that I’m actually _allowed_ to work in I’ll move out.”

Talia sighed again, “I’m not eager for you to leave, Derek, I’m-“

“I am,” Derek replied sharply, “I’m sick of you deciding every aspect of my life for me.”

“You’re a submissive,” She told him tiredly, “This is how it’s _done_.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a submissive anymore.”

“That’s not how it works, Derek. You are who you are. The end.”

“I could be a switch,” Derek offered.

“You could be a giant koala bear, but you’re _not_ ,” She replied with a sharp motion of her hand, “You’re a sub. End of story. You can try to deny it, but frankly I don’t know why you do! You were always happy to be obedient when you were younger. There’s no reason for you to be miserable now. Don’t let what those women did to you turn you away from who you are.”

Derek shut the door in her face. He didn’t want to see or hear her arguments anymore. They just made him more confused and frustrated. Should he like being a submissive? Should he feel guilt over the trouble he’d caused? Had he gotten into trouble because of his orientation or because it wasn’t right for him? He’d had trouble getting off with his previous partners. He’d even had trouble maintaining an erection more than once, and that had led him to try riskier and riskier things to try to find what aroused him only to find that _nothing worked_. Men. Women. An enby, once. Nothing. He’d begun to despair when researching slaves had hit him off onto a strange second puberty. He was chronically aroused around them and at the idea of them, but the longing to _be_ one… non-existent. So why such ardor around them if he wasn't a Dominant meant to _have_ them?

Derek walked into his bathroom to find that a bath had been drawn with his favorite body wash used to make it smell appealing. The slave looked uncertain as he knelt beside the tub on a folded towel and just… waited. Derek paused and reached out, placing his hand over the slave’s head and carding his fingers through his hair the way his mother often did with his father. MS's expression went from worried to blissful and then a careful blank. Derek watched him for a moment, but when he didn’t respond further he lost interest and undressed. Derek slipped into the water and sighed at the comforting feel of the hot water. It was the perfect temperature and he gave the slave a pleased glance before recalling that he wouldn’t respond. At least not responding meant Derek wouldn't face his judgment. Derek leaned back and put one arm behind his head to relax against the back of his tub but got a heady whiff of his armpit. Derek frowned.

“Wash me,” Derek ordered.

The serf hurried to grab a rag and began soaping it up. He dipped it into the water and began scrubbing Derek up, running the rag over his chest and arms before going after his armpits. Derek let him do as he was wont and lay back, enjoying the feel of contact after so long alone. He sighed contentedly and then shifted at the curl of arousal in his belly. Derek glanced over curiously and sat up a bit to glance at the sub’s crotch. Sure enough, the slave’s pants were tented and Derek’s own lazy desire began to peak. The slave moved down towards his legs and Derek lifted one at a time to allow him to wash them. He was very thorough, taking the time to wash between each toe and pressing down hard enough to not tickle the bottoms of his feet. This was clearly something he'd been trained in. Derek was relaxing in ways that he hadn’t felt in _months_ , possibly even years. When the young man paused after washing up to the water line on his thighs Derek didn’t even think about what would happen if he knelt up in the water. He just shifted onto his knees, but unlike every time a partner had had him kneel for him, this wasn’t a moment of submission. The slave was still servicing him, and now the refreshed rag slid over his turgid flesh and full balls and caused Derek’s breath to catch and a soft moan to slip free. The slave was still working to wash rather than arouse. He washed Derek’s heavy shaft and balls, slipped a rag-covered finger down to wash his taint, and then pulled away to the older man’s disappointment. The serf's hand reached around and began scrubbing his asscheeks and even dipped into his cleft to give his pucker a utilitarian scrub. Then the rag quickly retreated and was placed in another trash bag. The slave hurried to fetch the shower head from above him, checked the temperature, and rinsed Derek off with the shower extension. Derek watched him curiously, noting that he only shifted his erection as needed and made no attempt to encourage Derek’s interest.

The water was quite soiled now and Stiles pulled the plug without Derek’s permission.

“I wanted a longer bath and my hair isn't even washed!” Derek stated, his hand twitching at a sudden and alarming urge to strike the slave. He restrained himself. It wasn't right... was it?

“If Master is pleased to do so, this one will provide him with _fresh_ water,” The slave stated quickly in a soft voice filled with lust.

Derek relaxed, tolerating the heavy sensation as the water drained away, and was surprised when the slave rinsed him again once the water was drained… until he glanced down. The tub was actually _brackish_ from his bath! Derek hadn’t just been a bit ripe. He’d been _filthy!_ Derek stood and let him rinse the whole tub and then the slave hesitated.

“You may speak,” Derek encouraged.

“If Master is pleased to do so, I will wash his hair before filling the tub and allow- er- so Master can soak in… uh… perfection?”

Derek snorted at his struggle for the right wording, but he didn’t expect perfection from a slave or anyone else, so he wasn’t about to punish him for stammering. Instead he nodded and sat so he could continue. Stiles hurried to rinse his hair and then scrub it firmly, his fingers scraping along Derek’s scalp in a way that had him moaning for a whole new reason. This was beyond soothing. It was absolutely fulfilling in a way Derek had never experienced. He let out a long, low sigh of bliss and followed the slave’s brisk motions, frowning at the loss as he finished and rinsed Derek’s hair. Finally the older man was allowed to relax back into the tub and the slave ran the water for him once again. Derek lay in the tub, drifting in complete relaxation with an semi from the attention he’d just received. A partner in the past had bathed him, and it had been just as utilitarian, but it had been aftercare in order to settle him after they’d had a scene. Derek had been emotionally raw and the attention had been little comfort. Nothing had been much comfort. He couldn’t undertand how other submissives enjoyed pain or being told they were shit. He couldn’t fathom why they’d want to lie there and let someone use them. He couldn't understand the difference between MS bathing him and aftercare.

“Why?” Derek spoke, opening one eye to find the slave quickly averting his own, “Why did you do this? Become a slave?”

The serf glanced up and shifted a bit, “This one wishes only to serve the masters of this house.”

Derek snorted, “Come on. I’m not my mum. I want a real answer.”

“I…” He shifted a bit, frowning and looking uncertain before glancing up at Derek and then back down, “I don’t take very good care of myself. I do better with structure with… purpose. I was sort of… hurting myself.”

“With bad relationships?” Derek asked, tensing up again, “Abusive ones?”

“No,” The slave replied, “I was doing drugs. I’m clean now, though. Swear I am. Clean and STD free.”

“Mm,” Derek relaxed a bit, wondering if that had been an offer for sex, “Do you like this?”

“Being a slave?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“No, not really, but it’s… I _need_ it. I guess I’d rather have something else. Maybe I won’t do this forever. I don’t know, but for now this is what is keeping me sane.”

Derek frowned, “I need something to keep me sane… to keep me washed instead of filthy.”

“This… this worked,” The slave spoke softly.

Derek snorted, “I can’t always have slaves wash me. I need to take care of myself.”

“No, I mean… this helped your _mind_. You’re… you’re relaxed. Calm. Comforted.”

Derek’s eyes shot over to the slave, alarmed by how much he’d recognized in Derek and feeling suddenly vulnerable. The slave’s eyes dropped and he shifted back on his knees a bit to sit on his feet.

“If it pleases Master, this one would be honored to bathe him again.”

His switch to the professional soothed Derek’s anxiety. This was a slave. He could be vulnerable in front of him. His loyalty was bound to the family and he had no one to describe Derek’s insecurities to. Even if he lead it was the height of reprehensible to talk about his previous situation.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Derek went back to relaxing, but the conversation had unsettled him again so his ardor was gone. He considered his options and then decided more grooming was in order.

“Get the clippers from my kit in the medicine cabinet and give me a manicure. You know how?”

“Yes, Master,” He replied quickly, standing and heading for the cabinet. The slave returned with the nail kit and began working on Derek’s nails. Derek relaxed, allowing the slave to manipulate his hands. He was educated but not skilled. Derek had certainly had better manicures, but he wasn’t about to complain because this wasn't just _a_ manicure, it was _his_ manicure. He was enjoying the attention and contact more than anything else. The meticulous motions over each fingernail, the comfort of his grip, the resulting cleanliness, all resulted in Derek drifting off in the tub. It wasn’t until a hand on his cheek woke him that he realized that he wasn’t actually sleeping. He was in some strange mental state that he struggled to pull himself out of as the thrall gently kept him from sliding into the water. He had no idea how long he'd been holding him up out of the water before the pressure on his cheek had increased enough to wake Derek. Their eyes met but the slave’s dropped quickly as was appropriate for his station. He felt as if he’d come but there was no ejaculate floating in the water and he had no recollection of being touched.

“Did you…?” Derek started, then shook his head in dismissal of his thoughts.

“Sir?” He asked, eyes still down as he knelt on the floor patiently.

“I’m ready for bed,” Derek stated, pushing himself up onto his feet.

The slave quickly steadied him and Derek leaned on him as he swayed on his feet for a moment as if drunk. Derek gave his head a shake and then looked down at the slave in confusion. He wanted to ask what he was feeling but he didn’t want a conversation to throw him out of the strange sense of euphoria he was experiencing. He wanted to _bask_.

The vassal dried him off from head to toe, fluffing his hair and kneeling down to dry even the bottoms of his feet. Derek kept a hand on the wall to keep himself steady. He felt euphoric and caught himself moaning softly. When the slave rose he guided Derek’s arm around his shoulder and took him straight to the bed. Derek collapsed into it with a long breath out and the slave tucked him in up to his neck. Derek half expected a kiss on his forehead, but the slave gave him a brief, standing bow and backed slowly away. Derek was too out of it to think of another order to give him and simply waved tiredly from the bed. The slave shut the door quietly and Derek let himself drift for a while longer before proper sleep finally swallowed him up.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles returned to the slave quarters shaking with a combination of exhaustion and desire. He knew now why Deaton had wanted Derek to see someone outside of the family. Derek was _not_ a submissive. No way in hell would a sub want to be obeyed, catered to, and then end up in top space because of a manicure! Derek was a Dominant. An absolutely misunderstood and probably not very high level Dominant who was surrounded by almost _painfully_ dominant people who mistook his low-level dominance for submission! He was _smothered_ and Deaton was too damn polite to say anything, but he’d put Stiles in place to serve the struggling Dom.

Stiles fell down onto his cot, tugged his clothes off in a hurry, and striped his hand along his aching shaft. It took virtually no time at all before he was spilling across his belly, breath huffing out in relief before he sagged down into his hard-as-fuck cot. Stiles reached down to find his meager belongings below his bed; A towel, outdoor boots, a spare uniform, an apron, and a few personal hygiene products. He’d given the pads to Erica but kept the tissues for himself. He cleaned his chest up, pulled the blankets over his head, and dropped instantly to sleep. He hoped he wasn’t called for again because he was fucking exhausted.

XXX

Stiles woke up to Scott shaking him, smiling in that friendly way that he had from the time Stiles had met him. It made it hard to avert his eyes the way he was supposed to.

“Hey, it’s morning. You’re going to be late.”

“Shit,” Stiles groaned, rolling out of the cot and hitting the floor hard, “Ow.”

Scott laughed at him, “You’re so awkward, dude. Come on. Deaton won’t be as chill as I am.”

“Deaton has _no_ chill,” Stiles groaned.

_Derek has chill. Derek has icy glares and rippling muscles. Shit, shit, shit, don’t get into him. Conceal don’t feel. Don’t let it show!!!_

Humming Disney songs to himself, Stiles hurried to get himself washed up, dressed, and out to the kitchens. It was nearly five in the morning and they had an hour to get breakfast ready, serve it, and wash it all up. Scott and Deaton were currently caring for Master Peter’s children in turns, but each slave was required to try their hand and see who was better at it. Erica had had her go and ended up thoroughly beaten when she was puked on and ran shrieking from the kids in horror, shouting about how disgusting ‘spawn’ were. Stiles had thought it was funny and gotten more time in the corner for his humor.

Breakfast was an easy ordeal. They set up the island in the kitchen as a buffet and the family members came down in their own time, grabbed the food, sat down at the dining table or kitchen table as they saw fit, and ate in a leisurely manner. Their job was to make sure every need was met throughout, clear the plates, and wash up afterwards. Stiles easily assisted and cleaned up, keeping his eyes down even when he felt a prickling at the back of his neck that he was coming to recognize as Derek’s gaze.

When breakfast finished he hurried to Derek’s chambers only to have Deaton stop him partway there with an unusual and frustrating order.

“You’ve been moved,” Deaton stated after ordering Stiles into his office, “Your new wing will be the dining area, kitchens, and gardens.”

Stiles frowned but didn’t argue. He didn’t have the right to, but Stiles’ brain was going over and around in circles. Why put him in the dining and kitchen areas? That was Scott’s realm. Would Scott be taking care of Derek? Would he know what to do with Derek? Stiles was instantly worried. He knew that Deaton wanted people who hadn’t grown up with Derek to work with him, but Scott had been born in the house and grown up with Derek, if separated by caste. His mother was a switch who served as the family's nurse for years before moving to work at the hospital when Peter's sub took over nursing at the home. Scott was also a switch, easily flowing between taking orders and giving them. Stiles wondered if Derek were as well, and perhaps Deaton had only had Stiles there as an experiment to see how Derek responded. Now that Derek was confirmed as at least partially a Dom Deaton was moving forward to set him up with a mentor of sorts.

Stiles was more than a bit saddened after having had such an enjoyable time being dominated by the buff angsty guy, but such was his lot in life. Stiles set about obeying his new orders, cleaning and dusting the dining area and polishing the silver during the hottest part of the day. He’d tend to their massive yards after breakfast and lunch time, being done in time to make and serve dinner. He’d clean up after dinner, serve anyone who wanted snacks before bed, and then head to bed himself. It was a boring but busy lifestyle, and Stiles certainly couldn’t complain. As erotic as it had been to have Derek eyeing him up he’d been more than a bit nervous about where that would have led.

So Stiles relaxed into his new routine, and if the hair on the back of his neck occasionally rose when he felt eyes on his back, then it was just a symptom of living in the Hale house.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had thought that being a slave would be boring when he wasn't summoned, but it was far from dull. Not only was he subject to calls at any hour, and exhausted from labor during the day, but the cohabitants of the slave chambers were as full of personality as Stiles was. No beaten subs were these. They laughed, played cards, had rowdy sex on the awful cots, and generally were good people. Stiles wasn't allowed to have penetrative sex because his virginity was still part of his package deal, but he could fool around if someone got into him. As per usual, no one did.

Scott was Deaton's second and loved working with slaves. He planned to follow in Deaton's footsteps and take over his position someday as head butler and the medical provider for the slaves. Scott stitched up Stiles' hand when he sliced it up on a pair of hedge trimmers and their playful banter throughout had Stiles declaring them best friends for life. Scott had laughed and at first Stiles had thought he would dismiss the idea of being BFFL's with a slave, but instead Scott had declared them bros and insisted that Stiles listen to him wax poetic about IL. IL had been sitting a cot over and blushed throughout, staring lovingly at Scott while he babbled about him. The joy of being a slave. Being 'furniture' at the most opportune times! IL was clearly in love with Scott and Scott was falling for him hard. It was adorable and Stiles was here for that.

Now that a few months had passed their hair had grown out from the sharp shave they'd been given when they finished their training and IL was back to sporting gorgeous curls that Scott pulled when they made out against every available surface. Stiles just had bed head. Deaton hadn't indicated they were getting a trim anytime soon, so Stiles was ignoring it and hoping it would suddenly turn sexy. Most slaves were shaved just to make them more androgynous and sub-human, but Deaton and Scott hadn't indicated that would continue and while Boyd had his hair cut short it wasn't completely shaved and he'd been here longer.

“Is there anyone you're into?” Scott had asked happily, indicating where Boyd was dirty grinding on Erica. He'd thought that Stiles was watching them instead of musing on hair as his ADD wandered aimlessly.

“Um, well, you know Derek Hale?”

“The sub?” Scott frowned.

Stiles leaned forward and whispered, “He's not a sub.”

“He's... not?”

“Uh-uh. He was domming me during that one day I worked for him and it was _so good_. I think that's why they moved me. Maybe he's a switch and needed your tutelage or whatever? I was wondering if he's doing okay? Like, I'm not crushing on him, but I'm totally crushing on him. Ya know?”

“Well,” Scott smiled fondly, “He's a good man. A weird one, but a good one. I can tell. I'm an awesome judge of character.”

“If you do say so yourself!” Stiles laughed.

Scott beamed and his eyes did a ridiculous shimmer that belonged in holiday movies, “I decided to be bros with you, didn't I?”

Scott expertly flipped the topic and Stiles didn't get his answer.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek had been disappointed when Scott took over his care. He’d at first tried a few things with him the way he had with the initial slave, but Scott was a servant and had an annoyingly affable way of dealing with it. He’d let Derek toy with him for a bit, but then he’d smile and tell him he had other work to get to. It was polite enough to get away with and Derek found himself frustrated and losing sleep again. At least the adorable slave was still in his home. He saw him at breakfast and dinner and once mowing the lawn when he’d been on his way to his car to head to class. On his way back he’d been gone and Derek had felt sick to his stomach for no apparent reason.

So Derek continued to watch the slave he’d dubbed his ‘favorite’, but as finals came up his stress was mounting again and he longed for the peace that his favorite had given him so briefly. However, hitting the button wouldn’t call him anymore; it would call Scott during the day and his mother at night since Scott was ‘off duty’ after 8 pm. Derek had tried. It had been irritating. His mother, he discovered, was the reason his slave had been switched to a servant. She was still bothered by his study of the slaves and him showing up once with a bounce in his step wasn’t enough evidence that he was ‘better’ with a slave paying him attention.

So if Derek couldn’t get his slave to come to _him_ , he’d go to his slave. The problem was, he didn’t actually know where they _were_. While he’d grown up in the house, there were parts he’d simply been forbidden to go. One was Peter’s wing. The other was the servant area. He could probably search it out by going there and looking for the exact room, but he didn’t want to stumble around like an idiot and look like a fool in front of his favorite. He toyed with the idea of asking his mother, but she’d just become even more disturbed by his interests. Derek realized his only choice was his original plan. He had to follow his budding instincts.

Derek set out close to midnight when the household had settled down. He went to the entrance of the servant’s wing, opened the door, and took a long, deep breath in to ground himself. A long hallway stretched before him with multiple doors on each side and one at the end, it was much like the entrance to Peter's suite. He knew the slave’s wing was beside Deaton’s office since he’d overheard his mother explain that to them. He found that easily by the plaque on the door, but his favorite’s scent was everywhere and Derek was shocked that he knew him by his natural odor. All the slaves probably wore the same deodorant, but this distinctive smell was his favorite’s and Derek couldsense it floating about the area around him. It was by no means pungent, simply a comforting and alluring tease against his nose.

Derek decided his room was the best choice and opened the door to the slave’s quarters. He was immediately shocked. They didn’t have separate rooms. The slaves were all bunking in an incredibly small room with two double-bunk cots lining two walls. They had a trunk, a dingy rug, a ceiling fan, and a shared closet with no doors full of uniforms of different sizes. Derek’s entrance triggered an immediate response as the group all jolted to their feet. The girl was panting and so was the darker slave who had been with their family since he’d come of age. They smelled of sex and sweat and Derek tore his eyes away from heaving breasts and a throbbing erection, but both were quickly hidden when the entire group dropped to supine bows. The curly-haired lad with sharp features had been reading and was trying to surreptitiously slide a ‘borrowed’ book beneath his cot with one foot. Then there was his favorite, who was blinking sleepily towards Derek with a confused and slightly hopeful look on his face. Derek hoped he wasn’t imagining the latter as he also fell forward on his face as trained.

Derek frowned and walked passed his favorite to press down on the cot experimentally. It was hard and scratchy, and it seemed they only had a sheet over that course material, a sheet on top, and a single blanket. It was also scratchy, though not as rough for soft skin as the cot was. If one tried they could actually skin their knees on the cot!

“My mother didn’t replace these?” Derek demanded.

Silence. They were all so shocked they didn’t know what to do, and finally it was his favorite who spoke up.

“How may this one serve you, Dominant Derek?”

“Submissive!” The curly haired slave hissed.

Derek wasn’t listening to the second slave. He was too busy dealing with the curl of sudden and intense excitement that licked up his spine like flames. It wasn’t arousal, it was a surge of power and a rush of acknowledgment. _Dominant_. Derek had wanted to say it. He’d wanted to _scream it_ , but he’d never dared to even think it. _Dominant_. Not Submissive. _Dominant_. His favorite had seen in him what his family denied and dismissed. He’d seen the part of Derek that was trying to claw it’s way out. Derek had no idea if he’d always been Dominant. It was rare that people’s alignment changed. Perhaps he was a switch who had been waiting for the right trigger to bring out his dominant side, or simply a weak dominant drowning amongst a sea of powerful ones. Whatever the reason, this _one slave_ had that same soothing sensation flowing through Derek’s gut that he’d brought him before. It was a heady drug that Derek was keen to have another dose of.

“I believe you’ve already been punished for not answering immediately. Did my mother replace these?” Derek asked again.

“No, Master,” His favorite replied.

Derek walked over and bent forward to grab his hand and look at his tattoo. MS-1245.

 _That’s a mouthful_.

“Are the rest of you having trouble sleeping on these cots?” Derek asked, adding the words his mother had used on a whim, “Answer honestly, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Yes,” The girl stated.

“No,” Replied the curly-haired slave.

“No,” The dark skinned man replied, but his eyes flickered just a bit. It wasn’t a definite lie, but it was enough that Derek thought he was probably not satisfied.

Derek looked the woman over, “I get the impression you’re finding ways to cope. I’ll not interrupt you. MS-1245 you’ll come with me.”

Derek turned sharply and walked away, assuming the barely clothed slave would follow him. He was correct. He could hear the patter of bare feet behind him and a rush followed in its wake. He was obeying him instantly, not even stopping to put on some more clothes. He was trotting after him down the hall with only boxers and an undershirt covering his body. Derek led the slave to his own rooms and once he entered Derek felt a sudden rush of paranoia. He glanced around the room and then moved his dresser to block the doorway. There was a second door in his sitting room, but Derek was just looking to stall entry, not deny it completely. He would still need to get food, after all. For now, however, he had a sudden and ardent need to fulfill.

Derek turned to the slave and searched for a command to give him. Part of him wanted to order the slave to strip. Another to draw him a bath and get another repeat of what must have been top space. However, Derek still didn’t know if this young drudge even enjoyed men aside from an erection that might have been more linked to the act of serving him. He didn’t know his _name_ , but he didn’t want to shatter the very new system he’d started with this slave. If he asked a name and preferences he wasn’t treating him like a slave, and the serf had specified that he _needed_ the slave relationship in order to keep himself clean. Derek wanted to play out all his fantasies. He wanted to kink negotiate and have the slave agree to be _his_ slave: all his and no one else in the family. Derek couldn’t very well do that. While they were referred to as the ‘family’s slaves’, that was just a polite term. They were Talia’s slaves and Derek’s mind railed against that fact. He wanted- he _needed_ \- Stiles to be his, but Talia held his contract and all Derek had was his presence.

Derek gestured to the bed and Stiles climbed in and wriggled out of his clothes. Derek paused. He hadn’t meant for this to become sexual, but the young man was presenting him with a temptation he wasn’t inclined to turn away from. Derek gave himself a squeeze to calm the sudden throb in his underwear and then stripped his own clothes off. The thrall was lying down in his bed on his belly, breathing a bit heavy and blushing in both arousal and fear.

“Shhh,” Derek soothed, running his fingers down the serf’s spine, “I won’t hurt you… not tonight…”

Derek didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep. He had no idea what he wanted from this vassal. He didn’t even have a working knowledge of how to have gay sex since he'd only managed a bit of frottage with men. He knew what went where, but not how to do so without hurting the young man, and he knew bottoming could be fairly painful when done incorrectly. Derek reached into the drawer at his bedside and pulled out the lube he kept for masturbating. Since he’d researched slavery his sexual urges had skyrocketed and he’d been tossing off nearly every night like he had as a young teen. Gone was his fear that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. _Here_ was his desire, a completely docile and supplicant body ready and willing to do anything to please him.

 _Easy prey_ , Kate’s wicked voice whispered in his ear, but he shook her foulness off. Stiles wasn’t Kate and he was no longer a submissive, if he had ever been one.

Derek spent a moment tracing Stiles’ moles and mouthing along his shoulders. His scent teased the dom’s nose and his flavor filled his mouth, bringing hungry sounds to the surface. His captive shivered beneath him, arching into his touch in obvious desire. Derek was starved for this beautiful, slender being who drove him to distraction and fulfilled a need that Derek had never wanted to admit he had. The thrall was breathing heavily beneath him when Derek made his way down to the soft curve of his ass. He spread his cheeks, glad he was on familiar territory, and ran his tongue along the cleft of that pert bottom. The young man tensed and Derek spent a patient few minutes teasing his muscles with his tongue until they relaxed and Derek was able to reach his furled hole. The keen of shock and arousal that his favorite let out was absolutely glorious. Derek’s cock began to leak and he felt as if he were hovering on the edge of orgasm just from gaining entry to his most private area. The slighter body beneath him bucked, restrained himself, whimpered in lusty agony, and then yelped as Derek’s hand came down on his backside. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap, just a reminder not to shove his ass into Derek’s nose. Derek chuckled a bit and the slave huffed in amusement as well. He lathed his tongue across his pucker and his favorite moaned and gripped the bedding tightly in both hands. Derek worked his hole while he huffed and groaned in desire until Derek couldn’t take the urges rolling through him any longer. He knelt up and his mind flailed. He wanted everything. He wanted to rut himself to completion along his spit-slicked crack. He wanted to fuck between his lubed up thighs while ordering the slave to grip him tightly with his trembling legs. He wanted to come across his back and rub his essence into his flesh so everyone would know that MS was _his…_ but MS wasn’t his.

“Turn over,” Derek ordered, voice haggard and deep.

The slave rolled over onto his back, displaying a slim, leaking cock, and Derek gripped his hair, lifting him just enough for Derek to press his cock against those full lips. His favorite opened his mouth willingly and Derek’s cock had barely slid into his mouth before he was coming, thrusting erratically into his mouth. The slave swallowed down the seed that filled his mouth and licked at Derek’s pulsing cockhead to bring him more relief. Derek groaned and shook through his pleasure, shocked at how much more _satisfying_ this was for him than previous encounters. Derek released his slave, letting him fall back on the bed and lay there. He was staring up at Derek with glazed eyes, smears of semen along the crease of his lips, color in his cheeks, and a desperately twitching cock above a carefully groomed mound of hair. Derek glanced down at it and felt that surge of desire that was a craving for power rather than lust. He growled deep in his throat, red eyes flashing, and gripped the slave’s dick tightly in one hand. His favorite let out a punched sound and visibly struggled for control.

“Come for me,” Derek growled, not caring that it was a cheesy line from every porno he’d ever watched.

Neither did the slave. He let out a strangled cry and ribbons of white striped his belly and chest while his shoulders lifted and he convulsed with pleasure. He fell back onto the bed panting and staring up at the ceiling with a shocked look on his face. Derek crested into top space and roared out a very different kind of gratification while the slave below shivered.

“F-forgive this one M-master,” He gasped out, “This one was over-overcome by-“

“Save the flattery,” Derek growled, reaching down to tangle his hands in the slave’s hair again, “That was a _good_ sound. Go wash yourself up and come join me.”

The slave nodded weakly and when Derek shifted onto the bed he hurried into the bathroom. Derek had a sudden urge to check on him that he tamped down. Slave. Not submissive. Slave. Aftercare might be an urge Derek had, but his favorite had forgone it when he signed his freedom away. It might even be repulsive to him. Some submissives thought it laughable. Without a proper contract Derek had no idea what the little sub wanted or needed and it was making him insecure all over again.

The sub returned and Derek shifted aside to welcome him into the bed. A wiry body cuddled up against him and Derek found himself clutching him close and rubbing his face across the sub’s hair.

 _Mine. Mine… I have to find a way to make you mine. I need this. I physically need it, and I would do anything to make you secure with me. I can be your Master. You could be my slave. I could keep you sane. Clean. Happy. Content. I_ will _find a way. I will…_

Derek drifted off while swearing possession to a slave who snored away, completely unaware of anything besides his own satisfaction, the comfortable bed, and the heat of the dom at his back. Derek woke up with a huge stretch, one hand still unconsciously reaching for the slave in his bed. The sexy young man was sound asleep, snoring and drooling with absolutely no sign of stirring. Derek shifted until he could sit up without knocking the slave to the ground and smiled down at him. He was so sweet and pretty. Even in sleep his mouth twitched up in a smirk. Derek wanted to _talk_ to him, not just rut against him. Personally owned slaves had very different lives from what he’d read. They could choose to have a 24/7 relationship or they could have scenes or variations of the two.

_If he were mine…_

Reality hit Derek hard. If he came out as Dominant he would have to compete with his sisters, and that thought was wholly unattractive to Derek. They had been domming him for ages, making him do their bidding and mocking him for his ‘weak’ disposition. Now that they were all older they were less insulting about him being a submissive, but if he came out as dominant it would start all over again. They’d point out how _weak_ he was. So weak of a dominant that he’d been confused for a sub and only a completely cowed slave could make him feel like a proper Dominant.

Derek groaned and ran his hand down his face. He had a decision to make. He _could_ send the slave off to his duties and pretend none of this had happened, enjoying under cover of darkness until he himself was stronger. Or he could face his situation outright like his instincts were demanding now that he’d started _listening_ to them instead of trying to follow his mother’s commands. Derek stood up and strolled across his room, staring down at his desk and considering his class work. It all seemed so clear now that he was approaching it from the angle of a dominant.

Derek didn’t want to argue for a living, so Lawyer was out. He didn’t want to build things, even though the smell of wood was admittedly pleasant to him. He respected his father’s occupation, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He definitely didn’t want to be a nurse or doctor. Derek thought about the things he enjoyed in life. His car was the first that came to mind after the slave snoring away in his bed. Derek sat at his desk after tugging on a pair of briefs and tapped a pen on his desk as he considered his other hobbies. He’d taught himself to work on cars just so he wouldn’t have to deal with people at the shops and because he liked being in control of his car. That was telling of multiple things, but one most important was that he didn’t want to go out and sell cars. He might enjoy working with them, but he doubted customer care was in his resume. Perhaps he could take enough classes to _build_ them.

Derek’s heart soared and a real smile spread across his face, unfamiliar after years of depression and anxiety. For the first time in his life he could see himself not just going through the motions, but having a career he _wanted_ and would _enjoy_. Derek fired up his computer, frowning at the hated device, and soon had new information lined up in front of him. For once, Derek didn’t go running to his mother or sisters to set him up. Instead he poked at his lover and got the disoriented slave up out of the bed.

“I suck at computers,” Derek told him, “Help me sign up for classes.”

The slighter man staggered over and sat in the chair, shifting uncomfortably. He probably needed a piss, but wasn’t too obviously discomforted so Derek ignored it in favor of leaning over his shoulder and watching as he clicked on buttons, softly and politely asked questions, and finally set Derek up to enter his credit card information. Derek paused. His mother was in complete control of his finances and Derek was instantly seething. He didn’t want to go to her. He didn’t want to ask her for money for yet _another_ career change. He didn’t have the damn energy to argue it out with her.

“You don’t have a card?” The slave asked softly.

“No,” Derek growled, gripping his shoulder to calm himself. The sub hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, “I’ve got to argue it out with my fucking mother. She’s been impossible lately.”

“May I… May I make a suggestion?” He offered.

Derek glanced down and then nodded sharply. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips and the young man burst out of the chair, crossed the room at a fast pace and came walking up to Derek a completely changed man. His shoulders were squared, his eyebrows furrowed, and he had a twist of a serious smile to his lips.

“Mom, I’ve finally figured it out,” The slave said to Derek, who raised an eyebrow in confusion and slight alarm, “I know now why nothing else worked for me. I was trying to imitate you and dad, but that’s not what my path is. THIS is my path. This is what I want to do with my life. I want to create new, beautiful, and _powerful_ things. I want to build cars. I’ve never been excited about a career before because the others were all wrong, but _this_ … this is what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“I don’t glower like that,” Derek snorted.

The sub glanced away, smirking to himself, and bowed low, “As Master wishes to believe.”

“Master wishes to fuck your tight ass,” Derek growled, and noticed the slave flinch a bit before turning to the bed, “Wait, what was that for?”

The slave paused and turned back, “Master has not seen this one’s papers.”

“Don’t do that,” Derek huffed, “We’re alone and not engaging. Don’t stand on protocol. What’s wrong?”

“This- er- I’m a virgin. I’ve only played around with sex toys, dude. I’m, like, totally on board with you fucking every hole I have, but I’m nervous.”

Derek shuddered. His slave was a virgin. Derek was going to be the first and only person to fuck him.

 _Except he’s not my slave_.

Derek wanted to own and possess him. He wanted to take him in all ways. He knew he probably hadn’t had enough time to make the kind of decision that his instincts were telling him to make, but the urge was still there and Derek was finding pleasure in life by following them.

Derek stood up and crowded into his favorite’s space, pressing their bodies together and taking his mouth in a demanding kiss. When Derek stepped back he stared down at blown pupils and knew he couldn’t just give this up. He couldn’t stop what he’d started.

“Lay down on my bed,” Derek spoke softly.

The sub moved to the bed, but then Derek recalled he’d not had a chance to relieve himself and waved his hand in the air in frustration, “Nevermind. Go to the bathroom. Take a shower. I’m… I’ll be right back. Don’t leave. Your duty is to me now.”

“I’m… I’m yours again?” He paused, a happy smile spreading across his face.

“Yes,” Derek replied, feeling that heady rush of power that MS inspired when he saw his excitement. _MS wants to be mine!_

Derek turned sharply and headed for his closet to get dressed. The door to his bedroom rattled and Derek froze. MS was in the bathroom connected to his bedroom and his door was blocked with a dresser. The door to his sitting room was tested next, and of course it opened easily. Derek hurried over and checked the lock on the door between bedroom and sitting room; it was still secured. He could hear someone puttering around his sitting room and realized the daily tasks had started. He’d slept through breakfast and the servant Scott was in his sitting room tidying up.

Derek hurried to dress and walked into the bathroom to tidy up his scruff. His favorite was showering in the heat, rubbing Derek’s body wash over his skin and making Derek want to rip the curtains off so he could watch and jerk himself to completion. He really did want to fuck this beautiful man senseless, but for now he had to make sure he could _keep_ him.

Derek hurried to straighten up his scruff and a knock at his inner door let him know Scott was attempting to enter his bedroom. The slave had shut off the shower and was hurrying to dry himself off with the clear intention of answering the door.

“Stay here,” Derek growled, shutting him into the bathroom.

Derek walked to the door and opened it, watching as Scott’s eyes slid to one side to look for a second person in the room rather than in deference to Derek’s position in the house. After all, Derek was barely a step above Scott according to his parents.

“Greetings, Submissive Derek,” Scott recited automatically, and Derek’s belly lurched and announced it’s need to vomit everywhere. Derek decided that was excuse enough.

“I’m sick. Leave.”

“Um…” Scott stepped back in surprise, “I could…”

“Tell my mother I have a stomach bug so she doesn’t worry. My classes are done for the semester so I’m taking a well-deserved rest anyway. If I feel up to eating I’ll ring for food.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott gave him a barely-there head bob and turned away, missing the rage that spread through Derek at the lack of proper obeisance.

Derek shut the door and took a few steadying breaths, “How the hell was I putting up with this before?”

Derek hurried to the bathroom to find the slave had dried himself more thoroughly and hung up the towel. He was using another to dry off the floor and it occurred to Derek that he’d have to keep him busy or he’d go batty. Besides that, Derek was practically vibrating with the need to be respected.

“Call me by my proper title,” Derek ordered.

“Dominant Derek,” He stated immediately.

“Again,” Derek growled.

MS’s eyes slid up to Derek from where he knelt on the floor on hands and knees, stopping submissively at his chin while still portraying the desire Derek left him with, “ _Dominant_ Derek.”

“Fuck,” Derek growled, running a hand down his face, “This shouldn’t be so difficult. I felt like throwing up when he called me a submissive.”

“I’d do the same if someone called me dominant,” MS replied softly, “It would feel so _wrong_. Like they were lying about me to my face and I couldn’t protest.”

“Exactly,” Derek replied with a nod, “I have to find a way to keep you. You’ll stay here for now. I’ll figure this out.”

Derek considered the situation and walked to his sitting room to pick up a potted flower from his window. He walked it back into the bedroom and dumped it all over his bedroom floor. His slave gave him a curious look as he walked back out of the bathroom, and then bowed low to the floor and waited for the expected order.

“I’m going to be out for a bit. You will pick up every piece of soil by hand and place it back into this pot,” Derek put the pot down on the floor as well, “When you are through you will clean yourself up, vacuum the pieces too small to be retrieved by hand- and I _will_ check the vacuum to make sure you haven’t cheated- and make my bed. Fluff my pillows…” Derek hesitated, casting around for something else to do, “Air out my suits. I haven’t worn them in a bit and they’ll need to be shook out and stuff… um…”

“Your bathroom,” The slave suggested softly.

“Yes,” Derek nodded, squaring his shoulders, “Clean my bathroom. _Thoroughly_. You have everything you need to complete that here?”

“The vacuum and chemicals are kept in the hallway.”

Derek frowned, “I’ll bring them to you in a few hours. Occupy yourself until then.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Call me alpha,” Derek demanded, wanting to hear it.

“Yes, alpha.”

A curl of satisfaction soothed Derek’s agitated nerves and he moved forward to stand before his slave’s bowed head, “Sit up on your knees. You sucked me off properly last night. You were taught that?”

“On a toy,” The slave replied, kneeling up and eyeing Derek’s crotch, “I would _welcome_ instruction.”

He licked his plush lips, _damn him_ , and Derek hurried to pull his cock free. The slave needed no encouragement. He launched himself at Derek, becoming grabby and needy as he groped his ass, fondled his balls, and overall became far too stimulating far to fast. It was too much for a sudden start without foreplay but Derek let him at it. He was in a hurry anyway. The serf swallowed Derek down and gazed up at him with glazed, hungry eyes. Derek panted and gripped his hair, guiding him at the speed he wanted to bring himself off quickly. It wasn’t long before he was spilling in the man’s mouth with a low grumble of pleasure. He pushed the slave back, knocking him onto the ground and into the mess of soil.

“Don’t touch yourself,” He ordered, “Your dick is mine for everything but pissing, understood?”

“Yes, alpha,” The slave simpered, shifting on the ground as his hips twitched in desire. He would behave himself. Derek knew it and was absolutely ready for another round, but he had preparations to make.

Derek turned sharply and headed for his sitting room, not surprised to find the servant was waiting anxiously with a tray full of medications, crackers, and juice. Derek nodded gratefully and accepted the tray.

“Just what I wanted, thank you,” Derek stated, recalling that he was meant to still be submissive, “I’ve decided I want to clean my rooms myself. Show me where things are.”

“S-sir?” Scott asked in confusion.

“I’m a sub, aren’t I?” Derek snapped, disgusted to even say the words, “If I want to serve myself I will. Show me.”

The servant looked confused and a bit flustered but showed Derek to the nearest supply closet and gestured helplessly at them, “Do you… I mean… which chemicals…”

“I’ll figure it out,” Derek replied sharply, “Report to Deaton for new assignment. You are dismissed unless I call you for something I can’t do myself.”

“If there’s a mess in your bathroom, I won’t judge,” Scott spat out, “My mom’s a nurse and my first sub job was cleaning at the hospital she worked at and-“

“Go. Away.”

Scott hurried away and Derek rolled his eyes, read the labels in front of him, and collected several bottles into a caddy and dragged the vacuum back to his rooms. Derek left them in the sitting room and popped in on his favorite to find him smiling softly as he worked with his head down on hands and knees.

“Your chemicals and the vacuum are in the sitting room,” Derek told him, “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Yes, alpha,” He replied easily.

Derek smiled warmly at the title and moved to head out into the sitting room. He collected a few pictures of cars he had off of his wall, put them all in a box, and headed out to find his mother. He found he’d slept in even later than he’d thought. She was at work already and there were only a few people in the house. Derek left his box on the side table in the dining room and got himself some food since he’d left the food Scott had brought for his slave. Derek spent some time walking the halls, determining where everyone was. His aunt was home with his cousins but they were in their wing, making quite a large amount of noise. Derek’s father worked in the basement workshop most of the day and sometimes out in their second garage where he was building his own sailboat. His mother was at work, his younger sister still had high school, and his younger brother was probably helping his father. Once Derek had determined where everyone was he headed up to the attic to find something that he’d never thought he’d want to see again.

Dominant children generally responded to having toys taken away from them as a decent punishment. Remove their control and dominant personalities would feel helpless and distressed. That was enough to change their behavior and teach them right from wrong. Submissive children, however, required physical or mental punishments. Talia often told the amusing tail of how she’d first noticed Derek was a submissive as a toddler, even before eye contact had been shown to be different than his older sibling. Apparently she’d attempted to punish him for running out into the road by taking his precious blanky away. Derek had glanced at the absconded familiar, and turned away to play with something else. He simply didn’t care. The next time she’d given him a swat and he’d cowed and looked absolutely guilt-ridden. Once Derek’s mother had decided that her eldest son was a submissive she’d found easy ways to punish him. One was the cage.

Since his siblings would pull him out of a chair to play and Talia didn’t want the bother of punishing more than one child at a time for the same issue, she’d started putting him into the cage for punishment. Derek had _hated it_ , but since punishments weren’t supposed to be enjoyable it had continued until he’d outgrown the cage. She’d moved it to the attic and told him if he didn’t want a larger one he’d stay in the chair despite his dominant siblings ordering him about. He’d obeyed and she’d kept it in case they needed it for another child. So far all of Derek’s other siblings were dominant, but now that Derek knew he was as well he needed the cage for a different reason.

The cage was small, admittedly, but Derek wanted something small. He hoped it wasn’t _too_ small, and once he’d located it in storage he found that it was just barely big enough for what he wanted. Derek re-collapsed the cage for easy transport and moved it down to his rooms, carefully watching for any curious family members. Derek carried it into his bedroom, happy to find that MS had already reached the point of fluffing his closet out. Derek put the cage down and added the order of making room for it in the back of the closet.

While his favorite continued his work he settled down to unfold the cage and tore out the old padding. It had become moldy and he wasn’t about to let his lover lie in that for any length of time.

“You’ll have to clean this before you place it in the closet. Tell me if it’s too heavy for you to lift on your own.”

“Yes, alpha.”

Once he had the cage ready to be cleaned he set about making new padding for the cage. He knew rough, hard things hurt his favorite’s narrow hips so he utilized a pillow from his sitting room couch, removed the outer fabric, and covered it with a softer sheet, pinning it in place where needed. He'd tell his mother he'd ruined it and get another. The slave finished his work after Derek finished his, so the alpha filled in his time by checking the vacuum bag for large grains of dirt. He found only the finest of dark powder so he determined that was adequate. His search had made a mess so he quickly vacuumed it up, figuring he’d be wasting both their time to order MS to repeat his actions.

Derek found his serf had finished washing the funk from the cage and was using Derek’s hair dryer to make sure it didn’t rust. Derek watched him for a while, but was distracted by his cell phone going off. Derek plucked it up and noticed it was his mother, so he moved into the sitting room to avoid her hearing MS working over the phone.

“Hey,” Derek grunted into the phone.

“Derek? How are you feeling, sweetie?” She asked, her tone distracted. She was working, but had called to check up on her ‘sick’ son.

“A bit better,” Derek replied.

“Just a stomach bug, then?”

“Probably not since it was so brief,” Derek replied, “Probably stress from school. I’m… I want to talk to you about something when you get home.”

He heard her shift the phone suddenly, “You want to talk?”

“Yeah.”

“You… you actually _want to talk_? About something important?”

“Yeah,” Derek replied softly, “I’m… I’ve made a decision, but I want to show you some stuff first.”

“Is this related to you being sick?”

“No!” Derek huffed, “Well, maybe.”

His ‘tell’ must not have been vocal, because she hadn’t figured out that he was lying yet. Derek decided it was an opportunity to fill her in a bit without any consequences.

“I’ve figured out why I’m not happy about things,” Derek replied, “I need to… I need to branch out.”

“You’re not moving out,” She stated flatly, “I know that’s something you want, but you’ve only been out of trouble for a few months. I want assurance that you’re not going to go off with a dangerous partner again and end up dead somewhere.”

“I understand,” Derek replied, “That wasn’t what I meant. Really, it’s harmless. I’ll show you when you get home and you’ll see that it’s _perfect_ , mom.”

There was a moment of silence and then she laughed lightly, “You sound like your old self again.”

“I told you,” Derek smiled fondly, “It’s good news.”

“Okay,” Talia replied, warmth in her voice, “I’ll see you when I get home. Drink lots of fluids, okay?”

“I will, thanks,” Derek replied, and ended the call with a soft smile.

Derek headed into the bedroom again to find his lover getting the bedding together and looking quite content. He still hadn’t eaten so Derek took him from his task and redirected him to the food. At first he just pointed to the tray, but then he recalled an activity that he’d seen his mother perform with his father and eagerly ordered the slave to his knees. He knelt at the chair by Derek’s desk and the alpha sat in his desk chair. He began to slowly hand-feed the slave, enjoying the feel of lips wrapping around his fingers as he ate each broken piece of cracker. Derek was slowly hardening as the slave nibbled his digits and blushed prettily at his feet. He had to get him proper food. He also had to find out how to have full, penetrative sex with the young man without traumatizing him. He knew that technically he could use and abuse his body, but that wasn’t what Derek wanted. He wanted a more personal slave relationship with the young man, and that meant treating him with a modicum of respect.

“I’m going to keep you in that cage when I don’t have anything for you to do,” Derek told him, “I’ll… I’ll try to make it comfortable. You’ll tell me if the cage is too small or uncomfortable for you. I won’t have you in for long periods of time and you _can_ get out. It won’t be locked. I’m going to be trusting you to obey me.”

Derek watched as the slave’s eyes lifted to meet his and the gratitude and want there was palpable. Derek leaned forward and pressed their lips together firmly for a moment before leaning back and offering him juice. He drank it slowly while gazing up at Derek. When he finished the glass Derek stroked fingers through the young man’s hair.

Derek spent the rest of the day finding ways to keep him occupied in their small rooms. He’d have to arrange sorts of games to occupy him if he planned on keeping him confined to one room, and judging by how quickly he’d accomplished the tasks Derek gave him, he wasn’t an easily entertained slave. College classes would probably keep him sane, but Derek’s mother held the funds that he would need to buy his slave something to do that was isolated to the room. Then Derek thought of something that would keep him occupied for that night at least.

“You said you were taught how to have sex, correct?”

“Yes, alpha.”

“I want you to write me out detailed instructions. Print out pictures if you have to. Assume I’ve never had anal sex and make sure that you give me strict details. I want to know _exactly_ how to safely take your virginity.”

The young man beamed up at him and Derek gave him another lingering kiss before standing and stretching, “My mother will be home soon. I want you to work on this while I’m gone and give me a presentation when I return. I’ll be taking your virginity tonight unless you object?”

“No, alpha,” He replied quickly, “This one would be _honored_ to give himself to you.”

Derek’s mouth felt dry. He couldn’t believe he had this gorgeous creature at his feet, ready and willing to give himself to Derek. Not 24 hours prior he’d been questioning his very existence and now this young man was ready to be _his_. Derek stroked his cheek, rubbing his thumb over the moles on his jaw.

“Be ready for me,” Derek replied softly.

“Physically?” He asked carefully.

Derek considered. He knew enough about anal sex to know the basics of what was required. His hesitancy to take him earlier had been due to a lack of practical experience, and his ‘lesson’ was to alleviate both their concerns on that matter. That still left whether or not he wanted the pleasure of physically preparing him or the ease of taking his virginity without having to make sure a nervous virgin was ready for penetration.

“I’ll prepare your body, you make sure it’s clean. I’ll bring a kit for you.”

“Thank you, alpha,” He replied easily, but gave Derek no indication that that was the answer he truly wanted. Derek decided not to push it. He would have to trust the slave to speak up if he needed to.

Derek stood and got an enema kit from his bathroom, frowning at the expiration date. It was years expired. He’d allowed himself to be pegged once and had hated it, so he’d never gone through with it again. He’d always tapped out when asked to submit to that particular activity. While he had an intense urge to plunder the young man six ways from Sunday, he also wanted him to enjoy it. Even as he walked to his uncle’s wing, reciting the words in his head to get what he needed from him, he was mentally preparing himself to stop mid-activity if the slave showed any sign of hating their actions together.

Derek knocked on the door and Peter himself answered it and gave him a surprised look, “The hermit emerges.”

“I’ve had classes,” Derek huffed.

“As usual,” Peter replied, “Isn’t your MRS degree working out for you?”

“I’m training to be a-“

“It’s a joke,” Peter replied, “Don’t strain yourself. I know how confusing humor is to you.”

“Right,” Derek huffed, “I need an enema kit but mine is out of date and mother has the cards. I was hoping you’d pick one up for me.”

Peter stared at him. Derek stared back. Peter waited longer. Derek waited longer. Peter’s sub elbowed him out of the way and handed Derek the kit.

“It’s Peter’s _only_ day off. I’m not waiting all day to get into Peter’s pants,” Sylvia huffed, “Just so you two can _posture_. Go on with your weird self.”

Derek raised an eyebrow to Peter, “Don’t you need this?”

“No,” Peter shrugged.

“Another one?” Derek groaned, meaning the score of kids they already had.

“Don’t be stupid,” Peter scoffed, “People _do_ have recreational sex. There are these things called _condoms_ that we use to prevent pregnancies. I realize that you, as an asexual, probably don’t understand these things…”

“Asexual?” Derek scoffed.

“Well, you’re certainly not _sexual_. Not from what _I’ve_ heard.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Derek huffed, turning away and stomping off.

He was sick and tired of his family disrespecting him. He knew that Peter was just an asshole trying to be accepting in his own asshole way, and his parents and siblings were confused about his orientation. It wasn’t _technically_ their fault, but he was still disgusted by it all.

Derek made it back to MS-1245 and handed him the enema kit. He was doing research on the computer and writing quickly on a pad of paper. He’d already found the lubricant and set it out on the bathroom counter so he could easily insert the tube when he was ready. Derek left the young man to it with just a quick kiss on his forehead and headed out to face his mother.

Derek had three critical pieces of information and one argumentative mother who was determined to force him into the proper mold. She was unlikely to listen to a dump of Derek’s entire truth, but if he did as his slave had suggested and _show her_ that he was functioning well, than explaining to her why at a later date would work better. Derek couldn’t show her he was dominant because to Talia all signs pointed to submissive. He couldn’t legally own a slave as a submissive. If he could pick a career and succeed in it she would have evidence in front of her that he was happy and healthy. He could show her what every parent wanted to see in his or her child regardless of orientation: success. Once she saw that he could tell her _why_ it was happening. He could tell her that he had discovered his true self, and that he was actually a very weak dominant. When she questioned his evidence he could take her to his room and show her his healthy, productive relationship with MS-1245. At that point he could purchase or transfer the ownership of MS-1245 to himself.

Derek headed down the stairs and walked into the dining room to find that no one had gathered for dinner. He frowned in confusion and backed out to the hallway, walking to their various libraries and sitting rooms. There was a ballroom further down the hallway, but Derek didn’t get that far as quite a bit of noise was coming from their second largest sitting room. Derek walked in with his box in his hands, ready to give his mother a presentation on his chosen career as MS-1245 had advised, only to find the police standing to one side and his family the other.

“What happened?” Derek asked in alarm.

Talia turned towards him and Derek saw her eyes widen in sudden panic, “Derek.”

“Is this the missing slave?” An officer asked.

“No!” Derek barked angrily at the same time Talia quickly denied it.

“Apologies, Dominant,” The officer stated, nodding to Derek, “We’re looking for someone and I thought this was the entire family here already.”

Derek relaxed at the title, but his mother was quick to correct the officer, “No, Derek’s a submissive. He’s my eldest son. He’s supposed to be sick in bed and I didn’t want to worry him. He’s always concerned about the health of our slaves and servants. As a submissive. You understand.”

Derek scowled and growled out, “You _always do that_.”

“Do what?” Talia asked in confusion, but she was staring distractedly at a file in her hands, “I could have sworn there was a picture in here. They all come with pictures.”

“A picture of who?” Derek asked, craning his neck, but he thought he knew. MS-1245 would be the ‘missing slave’ they were looking for.

“Of IL-5421,” Talia replied, “Two of our slaves have gone missing. One and I’d assume he ran instead of turning in his papers properly and would have simply contacted the school so they could contact his immediate family and get him any help he might need, but _two_? Even new, that’s cause for concern, especially since slave IL-5421 was a sentenced slave. Besides, Cora says that he was perfectly obedient and unobtrusive at all times.”

Derek frowned and glanced at his sister, wondering if she were toying with the slaves the way Peter had been said to do when he was younger. It was legal for her as a known dominant to do so, so why not speak up? Cora, however, was in tears and twisting her fingers in her hands.

“Mom thinks someone took advantage of how new they were to kidnap them,” Cora said softly, “The way that Braeden girl did to you. She thinks we’re going to get a ransom, and since they’re ours, we’re responsible.”

Peter was giving Derek an odd stare, but Peter always gave people strange looks so Derek ignored him. He stared down at his box and wondered if he should tell the police that one of the slaves was safe. What if the information he was keeping to himself led to IL dying?

“I’ll talk to you later, Mom,” Derek told her, and then glanced at the officers, “I hope you find them.”

“Just a second,” The officer cut off Dereks’ retreat. The alpha turned back nervously but kept his face a collected blank, “When’s the last time you remember seeing them?”

Laura snorted and Talia gave her a glare.

Derek frowned. Did _everyone_ know about his obsession with the slaves?

“I went to the slave quarters to see if their beds had been replaced. One had complained about-“

“A slave complained?” The officer’s eyes narrowed, “Was it documented?”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugged, “He told my mother the cots were so rough and hard they were hurting his hips. She punished him for speaking out of turn.”

“A complaint was filed with Deaton, our keeper and butler,” Talia spoke up quickly, “He talked to the rest of the slaves who assured him the cots were fine. The one who spoke out of turn is MS-1245. He’s not suited to be a slave and if he hadn’t run off- as I’m hoping he has- than I would have been sending him back to the school today. He keeps _humming to himself_.”

“You were going to dismiss him for _humming_?” Derek asked.

“It’s unseemly,” Talia replied, giving Derek a baffled look, “They’re meant to be invisible, Derek, and that includes _silent_.”

“Then how’d you notice they were gone?” Derek snarked.

Talia gave him a narrow glare, “Deaton informed me when neither reported in for work. MS-1245 missed breakfast and IL-5421 vanished during his lunchtime routine. He’d been expecting MS to quit so neither of us found it remarkable until IL went missing as well. The rest have been put under watch.”

Derek glanced back down at their files in his mother's hands. He wanted MS’s file. He wanted to see the contents and know every intimate detail about his slave, but asking for it or touching it now would be strange.

“Maybe he should be a personal slave,” Derek muttered, wanting to defend him.

“Hardly,” Talia snorted, “Anyway, that’s not important right now. Their safety is.”

“We’ll search the house first,” The officer stated, causing Derek’s stomach to plummet, “Sometimes traumatized slaves hide in strange places. Submissives seek small quarters for comfort, after all.”

“Not you,” Laura teased, elbowing Derek.

“Not now, Laura,” Derek huffed.

The officer gave Derek a careful glance and motioned to him, “Why don’t you take me for a tour, sub?”

The hair on the back of Derek’s neck stood on end, but he managed to growl out an affirmative. Derek put his box down on the table, hoping his mother would go through it in her usual snooping way and spare him the conversation. The more he was in his family’s presence the more he wanted _out of it_. First, however, he had to get through this situation. Derek ran a few possible sentences through his head as he led the officer all through the downstairs and first floor, the further end of which was where MS would be waiting for him.

_My mother is wrong._

_Your initial instincts to call me Dominant were right._

_Ignore the slave behind that curtain._

_This is not the slave you are looking for._

Derek, as usual, was mute when he got to the actual moment requiring he speak. Derek opened the door to his sitting room and the officer poked around in small areas and looked for trap doors since some older houses had servant hallways in the walls to let their slaves be even _more_ invisible. Derek opened the locked bedroom door and stepped in ahead of the officer. His favorite wasn’t in sight. The officer walked through his bedroom, checking under the bed and tapping walls. He searched the bathroom, even looking under the sink. When he opened the closet door he went very still and Derek craned his neck to see his favorite curled up on the seat cushion he’d made softer for him. He had pulled one of Derek’s dirty shirts in with him to use as a pillow and Derek’s heart _melted_. The slave rubbed his cheek across Derek’s shirt and smiled up at him with heavy eyelids. Derek stared back at him hungrily and the officer stepped sideways to consider them both in obvious shock.

“Hello, _alpha_ ,” Stiles purred, “May I greet the officer with you?”

“No,” Derek replied without thinking.

“Well,” The officer stated decisively, “Nothing unusual in here. Let’s continue, shall we?”

Derek nodded gratefully- if a bit confused- and took the man to the next set of rooms. When they reached his uncle’s wing Derek let him explore it alone since he wasn’t allowed inside. When he returned Derek finished the tour by taking him to the servant's quarters. He honestly expected the man to find some clue about the other slave here, but despite looking around the room carefully he didn’t find anything that he brought to Derek’s attention. He did ask which bed was IL's and mentioned sending someone to collect prints off of it.

“Well, I don’t see any signs of foul play here,” The officer stated, “So we’re looking for a runaway. We’ll talk to his family. Even though they agree to it as a truncated sentence, sometimes prison slaves realize that it's not as kinky or easy as they thought and panic.”

Derek nodded mutely and the man held out one of the files he’d had tucked under his arm. Derek stared at it hungrily and then slowly accepted it. MS-1245’s file that Derek’s mother had handed over to the officer in order to research his disappearance.

“Treat him right, Dominant Derek,” The man advised, “I know his father. He’ll put a bullet in you.”

“I will treat him,” Derek replied softly, “Like my most precious possession.”

“See that you do,” The man stated patiently, then turned and walked out of the slave’s quarters with confidence that Derek envied.

_I have to be a good Dominant for him. I have to be the Alpha he needs._

 


	9. Chapter 9

“How the fuck do you even say this?” Derek muttered, “Mice-ee-slaw? Meechy-slaw?”

Stiles pushed down a smirk from where he lay prostrate on the floor in a full bow. Derek probably couldn’t see his amusement from this angle, but his alpha had returned in a huff so Stiles thought full submission was the best reaction. He’d also returned with Stiles’ file and the slave was quivering at the idea of being owned by this man. Derek nudged Stiles with a huge toe and the submissive hurried to reply to the question he’d assumed was rhetorical. Derek seriously had shitty interpersonal skills.

“It’s pretty unpronounceable, but you were closer on the second. Me-ach-ee-slawv, but my mom called me Mischief before she died,” Stiles replied softly, “After she died I didn’t want to hear it anymore so I started calling myself Stiles.”

Derek growled irritably, “Damn it.”

“You could re-name me?” Stiles suggested.

“I don’t have that right yet,” Derek replied softly. He moved to sit on the bed and Stiles shifted on the floor so his head was still directed towards Derek's feet. More paper rustled and Stiles realized that he was still going through the file.

“I’m… my drug addiction is in there, but… if you have questions,” Stiles stammered, shame moving through him. Derek was reviewing his file _before_ his sale? What if he changed his mind?

Derek was an inexperienced Dom and Stiles hadn’t been around one since he was in highschool. Generally speaking Baby Dom’s were trained by the time they graduated high school, taught the difference between abuse and BDSM, rape and consent, slavery and submission, and all levels of codes for a couple to use along with proper etiquette in public. The urge to dominate every single person on the planet had to be put in check fast once a Dom hit puberty. Cops gave them a pass the first time they mistreated a sub, and subs were warned left and right to _never_ be alone with one without having a contract first. The second time garnered more intensive training, usually court mandated, and a mark in their file. A third strike meant jail. Period. It was all taken very seriously and subs that learned of a second mark often avoided a Dom. For that reason most Dominants would behave out of fear they’d be ostracized from the submissives they craved. For a Dom to be near his thirties without an ounce of training was shocking and Stiles knew full well that he could be placing himself in yet _another_ dangerous situation by not tapping out and going to Deaton with a report on Derek’s unhealthy behavior. He also knew that he wasn’t dealing with an _actual_ Baby Dom. Derek wasn’t a child even though Stiles had taken to silently calling him his Puppy Dom. He was a young man who was hitting some sort of second puberty and had fixated on Stiles. He was in puppy love with Stiles and the slave was returning the feelings ten-fold. He wanted this. He wanted someone to keep him who needed him as much as Stiles needed the alpha. He was falling hard for Derek and wanted to help him learn who he was. He wanted to be there for Derek’s training and find a way for their off-kilter relationship to be realized. He couldn’t do that if the Alpha dismissed him from the door.

“What is wrong, my Alpha?” Stiles asked, sliding to his knees and stroking his hands over Derek’s thighs hopefully.

Derek didn’t punish the breach of protocol and Stiles felt uncertain. Every time he did something he knew he wasn’t supposed to do and Derek didn’t correct or punish him he felt as if the room were tilting. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He needed Derek’s guidance, but for now he was the one guiding his Puppy Dom. It meant dealing with a great deal of anxiety without the outlets he needed, but he’d do that for this sweet, frightened man. He would learn eventually and Stiles would have what he needed.

Derek reached out to touch his cheek, nudging his chin up with one strong finger and tracing the moles along his jaw. Stiles hesitantly met his eyes and immediately drowned in them. Light eyes rimmed with green and then a darker brown swallowed Stiles up and he let out a sigh and stared up at him in longing.

“I want to own you,” Derek stated flatly.

“I’m yours,” Stiles promised those hazel depths like a corny rom-com.

“Legally I can’t and you belong to my _mother_.”

Stiles frowned. Well. There went the romance, but Stiles wasn’t used to following rules.

“So buy me,” Stiles breathed, not even trying to control the challenge in his voice, “Have me work it off if you don’t have the funds. She gets a slave by day and you get me at night until my debt is worked off. This… whatever this is between us… whatever my alpha wants it to be… it’s _right._ ”

“And I’m content for the first time in my life,” Derek replied, eyebrows raised as he smile down at Stiles, “You bring me to life.”

_Oh my gods, could you be more cute with your bunny teeth and totally NOT intimidating eyes?! You cute lil fucking Puppy Dom._

“Then they can’t stop this. You’re not a submissive. I don’t think you’re a switch, either. You’re a Dominant. My alpha,” Stiles snatched up his hand and kissed his knuckles.

Derek reached down to adjust his erection with his free hand and shook his head, “No one knows but you and that cop who was _weirdly_ accepting of finding you naked and caged in my closet.”

“What’s stopping you from telling them?” Stiles asked, hands sliding central to palm Derek’s erection. He wasn’t about to tell the alpha that he’d known the man, that Jordan had stood in as Dominant for Stiles more than once and knew particularly well how calming being caged was for him. So distraction from the cop’s weird behavior was a definite plus… especially since there was no way Jordan’s jurisdiction was even _near_ this city. His dad was looking for him and Stiles needed him to _not_ interfere for once.

Derek’s head fell back and he groaned as the young man slid his fingers up Derek’s shaft and traced the shape of the tip. His cock was throbbing and lengthening under Stiles’ attention, reminding him that his future owner was far from small. Stiles’ mouth joined in on the action, mouthing him through his jeans while Derek’s breath sped up and the slave reached around to palm the upper curve of his ass. Stiles groaned and leaned back on his knees.

“You have the most _amazing ass_ ,” Stiles whined, “I want to touch it, like, always. Grab it and pull you deeper into me.”

Stiles gripped him and gave his hips a tug as if he could pull him into his body right then and there.

Derek laughed lightly and raised one of those expressive eyebrows, “Did you complete your homework?”

“I did,” Stiles purred, “Would you like to watch it?”

“Watch it?” Derek asked, frowning in confusion, his caterpillar brows dropping down low.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles scoffed, “What did you expect? A research paper?”

Derek’s eyebrow raised at the blatant disrespect, and Stiles ducked his head and muttered an apology in reply to the silent chastisement, “So, what am I getting instead?”

“A PowerPoint presentation,” Stiles chirped, smiling up at him while carefully keeping his eyes on his alpha’s chin as he was supposed to.

Derek smiled broadly and Stiles’ melted as he cooed up at him, “Oh, my gods. You need to smile more! Oh, shit, I’m really talking out of turn again. My deepest apologies, my Alpha. Okay. Focusing. Would you like to see my PowerPoint, Alpha?”

“Show me, my slave,” Derek ordered softly.

A shudder went through Stiles and he licked his lips before crawling towards the desk and Derek’s laptop. He booted it up, put his hand down on the space bar, and began a _detailed_ presentation.

Derek stood there with his arms folded and paid strict attention. If he thought this would be erotic he was wrong. This was _medical_ and highly detailed. So a few seconds into Stiles’ clearly researched speech Derek wiped the disappointed look off of his face, pulled the chair back far enough, and sat down to watch him quietly with arms folded and ankles crossed. When Stiles finished Derek nodded his acceptance of the young man’s work.

“Good work,” Derek replied.

“Do you want me to play it again?” Stiles asked, unsure if Derek had been taking it seriously for the first half.

“No,” Derek smirked, “That was thorough enough for me, thank you. Climb up on my bed.”

Stiles hurried over and Derek followed, smiling softly as the slave dropped to hands and knees on the bed. Then Derek paused. Stiles glanced over his shoulder to see Derek staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in spot staring at Stiles’ body with a mixture of longing and fear. He swallowed hard and knelt up on the bed, hands roaming over Stiles’ ass and thighs. He was shaking his head slowly.

“I want to hurt you.”

“You can.”

“I want to see my hand print all over your lily white ass.”

 _OMG, the clichés! So fucking cute!_ Stiles thought, but out loud he whispered, “It would be my pleasure, my Alpha.”

Derek looked torn, but he palmed Stiles’ ass as if considering the actions, “I could hurt you. I don’t… Stiles… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve… I’ve never dominated someone before.”

Stiles turned around, breaching protocol again to reach out and cup his scruffy cheeks with both hands and press their foreheads together, “It’s okay.”

“It’s fucking _not,”_ Derek growled, “I’ve never once satisfied a lover, you know that?”

“Yes you have,” Stiles scolded, “You sated me.”

“I can’t _fuck_ you. I’m fucking _scared to_.”

“That’s because you’re responsible,” Stiles soothed, “Let me guess: You’re having a shit-ton of urges. Some of them are violent. Some of them are all squishy and cute, right?”

Derek nodded, eyes falling shut as he nuzzled Stiles’ nose and bit his lower lip.

“You’re untrained, so you’re aware of but not _exactly_ sure of what limits are like. I’m guessing you’ve never had a decent sub relationship, either?”

Derek shook his head and pulled Stiles into his lap. Stiles went full octopus and wrapped his arms and legs around Derek.

“Some of what you’re feeling,” Stiles spoke softly into his spicy scented shoulder, “It’s going to be stuff I hate. I’m willing to do a lot of things that I don’t like, or I wouldn’t have signed on as a slave. That's okay. The only no-go is permanent harm or something that could kill me. Do you think you would go too far and harm me permanently?”

“No,” Derek growled, ridiculously muscled arms tightening around Stiles, “I’m keeping you forever.”

Stiles’ heart soared, but he pushed that down to focus on the conversation, “Than your worries are unfounded because that’s what I want, too. If no permanent harm comes to me than I’m okay with everything that happens. Slaves don’t have safe words, but if you want we can start as regular D/s instead and get more intense as needed. We don’t have to be Master and slave if you aren’t ready for that. We don’t ever have to be.”

“Do you not want to be?”

“I do,” Stiles replied honestly, “I don’t know if I’ll need it or if being your sub will be enough, but for starters it will be fine. If you’re worried we could have something like have a safeword for when I want to drop into being a slave? Sort of backwards? I’m trained and it’s something I wanted and you clearly find it attractive, so abandoning it might not be good for us.”

“Us,” Derek breathed, rubbing his scruff against Stiles’ bare shoulder, “Gods, I want there to be an us. I want to bite you. Mark you.”

“What ever the paperwork says… I’m _yours,”_ Stiles assured him, “Do what you want with me. I _want_ you to.”

Derek bit down on his shoulder, drawing a hiss from Stiles as the pain rolled through him. Stiles was getting hard once again, and Derek’s burly arms around him were intoxicating. For a moment they pressed tightly together, and then Derek released his shoulder and kissed up his neck as he frotted against Stiles’ supple body. Stiles moaned deeply as he noted an answering hardness in his sexy alpha’s pants, however the jeans were rubbing Stiles all wrong.

Thankfully Derek laid back on the bed and then gave Stiles a confused look. Stiles forced down his smile. He knew what had happened. Derek had forgotten which role he was in and for a moment had laid back so his lover could begin subduing him. He wasn’t used to being the dominant partner. Stiles wasn’t even sure he liked to top.

“How do you want me, alpha?” Stiles asked, moving up to straddle his hips.

“On… on your…” Derek hesitated and Stiles stroked his cheek fondly.

“We can do as little or as much as you want,” Stiles assured him, “I’m nervous, too.”

“I’m the alpha and I’m _not_ a virgin, I don’t have an excuse,” Derek growled.

Stiles shook his head, “You can be a full blown slut and still take a pass, Derek. You’ve got a right to wait until you’re ready. This is still _new_.”

Derek reached up to stroke his cheek. He was still hard and aching for Stiles, his ardor unchanged by their shifting discussion. He needed release. He needed his sub beneath him.

“Vanilla sex?” Derek suggested, feeling pathetic just for mentioning it, “ _Just_ until I’m trained and so your first time isn’t awful. I mean, it won’t be-“

Stiles touched his lips with one finger soothingly, “Alpha… _Derek_ … that’s perfect. No pressure. We can just get off with each other. Like teenagers.”

Derek’s beautiful smile spread across his face and Stiles beamed as he replied, “Like teenagers, huh?”

“Well, we’re both just as inexperienced: me with sex and you with Dominating. What’s wrong with just enjoying each other’s bodies?”

Derek grumbled in the back of his throat, “I want to memorize every inch of you.”

“What, you haven’t started?” Stiles sassed, “I’ve been naked for, like, twenty-four hours here!”

Derek snorted and gave his ass a gentle slap, “Sass.”

“You’ll have to beat it out of me,” Stiles winked, “When you’re ready.”

Derek rolled them over and ran his hand over the beautiful man’s body as lust drove him to distraction. Stiles was a beautiful, alabaster statue in sensual repose with his arms above his head as if he were imagining being cuffed. Well he might be and Derek wanted that someday soon. He wanted to watch him arch, hear him scream, taste his tears, smell his sweat. He wanted the beautiful slave to writhe beneath him in pain and pleasure. For now he’d settle for the latter.

Derek stood up and walked around the bed to the nightstand, fetching the lubricant and bringing it to his sub’s ever-so-willing body. With a growled order the slave rolled over onto his belly and presented his gorgeous ass. Derek slicked up two fingers, studying Stiles’ pale orbs and longing for a few red handprints to cover them, but at the moment he didn’t trust himself. He needed to know how _healthy_ relationships worked, and that meant taking the time to learn. For now he had the beautiful man in his bed and he would have him in his pocket as soon as he got his papers off of his mother.

Derek spread round cheeks and traced his finger along Stiles’ pucker, circling it and watching as his entrance twitched. He was shivering and pushing back towards him, his breath fast with longing. Derek pressed and his first finger slid in easily, the heat making him groan.

“Oh my gods, this is happening,” Stiles whispered.

“You okay?” Derek asked.

“So okay. Totally okay.”

Derek smiled to himself as he slid his finger in further and began to move it slowly back out. Stiles shivered and then pushed back for reentry. Derek obliged and watched as his first digit did what he wanted to do with his dick. For a moment it was enough just to watch his finger sink in and slide back out, but soon Stiles was whining pitifully so he tried to work the second in. Stiles hissed at first, but when Derek paused he whispered that he was good. Derek pressed deeper and held it while Stiles shifted a bit. When Stiles settled he began to pump them again. Stiles moaned deeply and began to rock back on his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” Stiles moaned.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, “I never liked this being done to me.”

“I’m so fucking on board with this,” Stiles breathed, “And kind of glad you told me that, because I was worried I’d have to top and I dunno if I can. I've never even pictured topping, but I want this sooo bad!”

Derek snorted, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Derek tried spreading his fingers the way Stiles’ instructions had described, and dragged them out so that the V grew and stretched his lover’s entrance. Stiles hissed again, but his body was so responsive that Derek didn’t question it this time. Instead he pressed inside and repeated the action a few more times until the walls of Stiles’ entrance relaxed and let him move smoothly. Derek curled his fingers to find Stiles’ prostate and on the third try the submissive let out a sharp grunt.

“There?” Derek asked, fingering him once more.

“Oh my gods!” Stiles groaned, “I’m… fuck, I think… I could come…”

“Yeah?” Derek growled eagerly, “Hold yourself off.”

“I… okay,” Stiles whimpered as Derek made sure he was positive of the location of the organ that would make anal more enjoyable for the slave.

Derek was eager to continue despite how mesmerizing it was to watch his fingers move in Stiles’ hole. He slid them free and grabbed the lubricant to slick himself up. Per Stiles’ instructions he was going to take Stiles while he was on his knees despite a longing to see his submissive’s face. He knew this would be easier for his first time. Derek had to take a few breaths as he knelt behind him. Stiles’ hole was flexing and Derek was ready just shove in, but he knew that he couldn’t do that or he’d risk at the very least emotional trauma. Stiles had to experience as little discomfort as possible. If he liked burn during sex later they could do that, but for now he wanted Stiles to welcome his cock in.

Derek lined up and cautioned Stiles to hold still as he began to press into him. He’d only taken women vaginally so he wasn’t prepared for the tight pressure followed by a soft heat. Stiles’ body swallowed him up, but only halfway. Stiles let out a keen of pain and Derek froze, rubbing his lower back. Stiles reached down and palmed himself, trying to distract himself from the pain by stroking his cock. Derek growled encouragement and waited for the muscles to tire and relax. Then he slid into him fully with a restrained grunt.

“Fuck,” Stiles announced sharply, “You’re _really_ big.”

Derek wanted to answer but the entire world had ceased to exist beyond his dick. Nothing- _absolutely nothing-_ felt as good as sinking into Stiles’ body. He knew now why he’d never enjoyed his previous sexual encounters fully. Having this slave beneath him, whimpering and vulnerable rather than demanding and smug, was the epitome of pleasure. It was mostly psychological at this point, but with a single slide out and back in Derek’s eyes were rolling in his head as the physical aspects _firmly_ clicked into place. Derek was barely controlling himself as he rocked into Stiles’ body. It felt like heaven and he wanted nothing more than to fuck him until his brain rattled in his skull. However, he didn’t want Stiles to withdraw consent. Stiles was moaning softly as he stroked himself slowly and Derek’s longing to see it was intense. He was frantic to see his lover, to touch him himself. He wanted Stiles to turn over but that meant pulling out and that would only hurt him more at this juncture.

“Turn your head,” Derek ordered, “Look at me. _Look at me!_ ”

Derek’s growled out order brought Stiles’ head up and he turned it to look back at Derek with glazed eyes. He watched as the slave moaned deeply, mouth slack, hand flying over his dick as he took the edge off. Derek leaned forward, unable to resist nipping his shoulder. It was the right decision and Stiles let out a sharp cry of pleasure as Derek grazed his prostate. The Dom grinned wickedly and focused on driving him insane with his new-found edge.

“Please, please, please, may I come?! PLEASE!” Stiles begged.

Derek could barely catch his breath, but he managed to grunt out an affirmative and then Stiles was spilling across his bed with a long, low moan. Derek gasped as Stiles’ passage clenched around his dick, holding him off for a moment even as Derek hungrily fucked him through his orgasm. Then it was the alpha’s turn as he came hard inside the slave’s body. His mind soared and his teeth clenched in the flesh at his favorite’s shoulder blade. He shook with pleasure and licked along the abused flesh before pushing up with both hands gripping the beautiful man’s plush ass.

“Fucking hell,” Derek panted, chest heaving, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed, “Didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

Derek slid free. He wanted to ask if it had felt _good,_ because he knew first hand that having an orgasm didn’t make something enjoyable. Instead he held Stiles in place and watched as his semen dripped from the slave’s ass.

“Gorgeous,” Derek whispered.

Stiles visibly preened and a different sort of satisfaction settled in Derek’s gut.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Derek went down to the kitchen in the morning to find his mother had woken up early. She smiled at him as he prepared himself a large breakfast and put it all on a tray.

“You’re taking breakfast in your rooms?” She asked.

“I’m still recovering,” Derek replied, “I’m not feeling up to company.”

“You’re eating, at least,” She replied, walking over to him and putting a hand on his head. Derek stilled as Talia leaned forward to press her lips to his forehead, “No fever.”

Derek grunted an acknowledgment and stepped away from her, “I’m going to-“

“And you’re making your own meals, cleaning your own room, keeping your voice down,” Talia smiled fondly at him, ruffling his hair, “I’m proud of you, Derek.”

“For what?” Derek blinked in confusion.

“For embracing your identity!” Talia beamed at him, and then tapped his nose when his eyes shot up, “Eyes on my chin, dear. You’re doing _so_ well. I think a reward is in order, don’t you? And this is big, so it should be a big reward. Mm, perhaps a new car? I noticed that box you-”

Derek’s stomach twisted, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Talia frowned, “Maybe the food is-“

“It’s not the food, mom,” Derek huffed, “It’s… I want a slave, not a car.”

Talia shook her head in confusion, “You dismissed your servant. If you want someone else-”

“Not _borrow_ a servant, I want to _own_ a slave! Own him!” Derek huffed irritably, “I want his papers, mom. I’ll have him work it off or I will or-“

“Derek, that’s illegal,” She stepped back and gave him an offended look, hands on her hips, “You know I can’t do that, I’m a prosecutor!”

“You can’t let a sub own a slave, but I’m _not a sub_. I’m not.”

“Derek…” Talia sighed, “We’ve been over this.”

Derek forced his eyes up to meet hers, anger twisting his gut, “No, you _don’t_ do that! I’m a Dominant!”

It felt good to say it out loud. It felt so _very_ good to proclaim it to the woman whose opinion mattered to him most. To the woman he’d been too intimidated by to imitate.

“This is ridiculous,” Talia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Derek, you’re a submissive. You’ve always been a-“

“I’m _not_!” Derek raged, “I’m Dominant and I’m _done_ being talked down to! He’s mine and I’m keeping him! Papers or no!”

Derek turned sharply and walked away while his mother gaped after him before spitting out, “Get back here! I have _not_ dismissed you!”

Derek continued on his way, shoulders squared as his mother chased after him. A bit of panic was creeping up along with the taste of copper in his mouth as he realized that his mother wasn’t going to let him exit stage left this time. She was following him as he hurried to his rooms, not looking back and trying to tell himself that he wasn’t terrified even as the blood pounded in his ears.

“Kneel!” She shouted once he’d cleared the stairs.

Derek ignored her and with a rush of excitement he realized his knees hadn't even wobbled. He had zero urge to obey her.

“What the _hell_?!” She shrieked, “Derek, turn around and face me right now!”

She might be the most dominant Domme in the house, but he did _not_ have to obey her and this was proof! A sub would kneel at his familial leader’s orders. Derek did not. Did not even want to. He was _free!_

Derek got to his room and stood in front of his door, frowning at the fact he had his hands full. He was shaking too much to hold the tray in one hand. Instead he gave the door three solid kicks and raised his voice.

“Stiles! It’s me! Open up!”

“Who is-“ His mother started, but faltered when Stiles opened the door, “You _kidnapped_ a _slave!”_

“No,” Derek huffed, “He’s consented.”

“You’re keeping him from his duties! Derek, I had the police here! Subs can't do this! You could go to jail!”

“He’s a slave in our household and I’m a Dom. Nothing illegal has happened. I’ve a right to do… things with him.”

“Derek,” Talia put out a trembling hand, “I get that you’re going through something, some sort of belated teenage angst-“

“Really? Angst?” Derek asked. Stiles snickered and Derek wasn’t having the casual relationship at the moment, “Kneel!”

It was the signal they’d agreed to. If Stiles needed to submit badly he would kneel before him. If Derek needed it he’d order him to. His lover showed no hesitation or upset. Stiles dropped to his knees and his mother gave them both a repulsed look.

“So, you’re a switch. You still can’t have a slave,” Talia shoved past Derek into his rooms and hit the switch on the wall twice, the code that called Deaton to Derek’s rooms, “It isn’t legal and you’re unwell. Deaton will advise me on which hospital can-“

“NO!” Derek raged, “I’m not a _switch_ , I’m not a _sub,_ I’m a Dominant!”

“Derek, this is insane!” She threw her hands up in frustration.

“I don’t need a hospital,” Derek put the tray down on his desk and snapped his fingers and Stiles scrambled to his side, “I need _him_. He’s keeping me sane!”

“That you need someone to do that is so very telling, Derek,” Talia pleaded.

“Only because you keep-“

“Mom?” Cora asked, peering in the door in confusion “Is everything okay? I heard shouting.”

“Get your father,” Talia told her.

“I don’t need dad, I need _him_ ,” Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ arm, jerking him partially upright and giving him a shake to try to get a grip on himself.

“You need help!”

“My Lady what…” Deaton started, but was interrupted by an outraged scream from Derek who turned and dragged Stiles towards his bedroom only to be cut off by his mother. Derek’s vision was narrowing, sound becoming a dull whine in the air; the room stank of sweat and his mother’s perfume. Derek needed to burn it out of his territory. _Immediately_.

XXX

Derek’s grip on Stiles’ arm was painful as he dragged him towards the bedroom. Stiles glanced aside and saw his eyes flicker to bright red and a jolt of fear went through him. Derek was struggling to keep his sanity and was heading towards feral fast and hard. Talia was looking back at Deaton so she didn’t see his eyes, and she was still treating Derek as if he was a mad switch with delusions of grandeur.

“Deaton, call an ambulance. Derek needs to b-“

Derek swung and his hit connected, backhanding his mother onto the floor. She went down hard and missed another flicker of red in his eyes when she slammed into his closed bedroom door.

“Derek,” Stiles started softly, trying to get his voice going when his instincts were screaming _submit! Submit! Submit!_

“SILENCE!” Derek raged, and slammed Stiles against the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs and rattling his head until stars danced in front of his eyes, “YOU WON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME! HE’S MINE!”

“Mom what’s going on?!” Laura asked.

Stiles blinked until his vision cleared and saw Talia standing in front of her children and husband now, having scrambled around to protect them from this new threat, eyes narrowed but sanity _thankfully_ still in tact. Not true for Derek. Derek was growling like a wild beast, teeth bared and enraged. He had Stiles pinned to the wall with one crazy-strong arm across his collar and Stiles knew that if he tried to push him away he’d be savaged. Derek wasn’t in his right mind. Instead of stopping him from going into sub-frenzy Talia had pushed him into Dom-Ferocity. Stiles was a small man, just 170 Ibs of fragile human flesh and sarcasm, and he was completely at the mercy of a man who looked like he bench-pressed houses whenever denied the opportunity to dominate someone; which had apparently been happening _all his life_. Stiles was just glad that Talia could see Derek’s red eyes when he twisted to face her. Switches didn’t go feral. There was no arguing him down now. Someone had to submit to get him to calm down and Stiles was immobilized and having trouble getting his voice to work.

“This is… impossible… I can’t believe I… Derek. Sweetheart. You’re going to hurt him. Let him go,” Talia said softly.

 _Well, shit_. Stiles thought, giving her a shocked look. _How the hell does a woman raising a pile of Dom’s not know how to deal with another Dom?!_

“YOU WON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!” Derek roared, and surged forward to slash the air as if he had claws. It was ineffective, of course. Humans had evolved past having claws, but it still made Derek’s family wince backwards. It also gave Stiles more room to breathe and when Derek returned he shifted so the arm wasn't at his neck.

Derek’s youngest brother had shown up and was clinging tearfully to his father while the man whispered at his wife, trying to get her to back down. Stiles was still pinned by his hand rather than his whole arm, and Derek wasn’t about to give up ground by stepping backwards again.

“Let me try,” Jethro hissed, “He’ll respond better to a sub.”

“You’re _my_ sub,” Talia hissed, eyes flashing red.

_Oh, fuck, two feral dom’s!! Have her other kids never challenged her?! Or were they that busy bullying Derek?_

“What’s his name, Derek?”

A voice of reason. Softly spoken words that caught Derek’s attention and diverted Talia from protecting the rest of her family from her feral son. Talia was visibly trying to calm down when Laura spoke, and the young woman was meeting Derek’s eyes the way the rest of the family _never did_. Derek’s eyes flew to her. An equal. An equal he wouldn’t feel the need to attack or subjugate. He could listen instead.

“What’s your sub’s name, Derek?” Laura asked softly with a sweet smile.

“Laura stay out-“ Talia started, eyes flickering back to normal. Her stance was still aggressive, still protective, still not a woman realizing what she’d created was unhealthy and out of her control.

“No, mom,” Laura practically whispered, “No, you’ve lost his trust. Let me.”

“You’re a Dom, too,” She replied sharply, but Laura was moving forward with her eyes on Derek’s.

“Please introduce me?” Laura asked, “I’ve always introduced you to _my_ subs, right?”

Derek shifted slightly, lessening the pressure on Stiles’ chest and giving him a bit more breathing room. The sub knew what he had to do. He had to find a way to calm the situation further, but Dom’s in Ferocity could become violent without intending to harm people. They weren’t in control of their actions. Stiles had to submit without actually moving and that was difficult. It was also terrifying and Stiles suddenly felt that all the training pounded into him actually _hadn’t_ been enough.

“Th-th-this one,” Stiles choked out, swallowed hard, and tried again as sweat ran down his forehead in rivulets, “This one is hon-hon-honored to m-meet the al-alpha’s sister.”

Derek’s breath had slowed down and he was studying Laura with his head cocked to one side.

“ _My_ slave,” Derek stated.

“Yes, your slave,” Laura stated, “Why don’t you show me what he does? Which commands does he respond best to?”

Derek hesitated a moment and then moved the arm from where it pinned Stiles to the wall. He struggled with cramped hands for a moment, his muscles clenched from his rage, and then snapped his fingers once sharply. Stiles’ training kicked in and he dropped to his knees without thinking. Relief surged through him, along with a heady dose of giddy hormones in response to obeying, and Derek glanced down at him instead of focusing on the ‘threat’. Stiles realized he could do this. He could reach his alpha.

“Thank you, alpha,” Stiles breathed, his cock twitching as his body woke up in response to Derek’s obvious relief.

Derek snapped twice and the omega dropped to his hands and knees. Derek stood there, a mixture of proud and awkward. He didn’t know what to do next. Stiles knew what to do. Alphas didn’t need to be bigger and badder than those around them, they just had to be in control, master of their environment, or perhaps… master of one.

“This one would be honored to be your furniture,” Stiles spoke up softly, shifting to put himself sideways so Derek could sit on him and lean back against the wall.

Derek stepped sideways, inching on front of Stiles’ body. He might just decide to stand there, blocking their way to his slave, or he might sit down on him. For a moment of painful silence, Derek just stood there, shifting back and forth between growling and meeting Laura’s eyes in obvious want of acceptance of his identity. Then he sat down… right in the _middle_ of Stiles’ back. Stiles winced but he wasn’t going to correct Derek in front of other alphas. He was just glad the man had let out a slow breath and relaxed against him.

“He’s mine,” Derek stated, “In every way but name. You can get a million other slaves. This one is _mine_. I _need_ him.”

“Okay,” Talia nodded quickly, “But Derek you can’t-“

Derek growled and rose again, eyes flashing red while Stiles smothered a groan of frustration. It might be received as pain and could spur Derek on to greater violence.

“What your mother means,” Jethro spoke up quickly, “Is that, with all due respect, son, for the safety of _your_ slave, his hips and shoulders are more sturdy.”

“What?” Derek blinked.

“In the training you will soon receive,” Jethro replied, looking at his son’s chin instead of eyes in proper respect for his Dominant son, “You’ll be taught to sit on the slave’s hips or shoulders. The middle of his back can cause damage to his spine and permanent harm is to be avoided at all cost.”

Derek glanced down at Stiles, stepped sideways, and sat on his hips. Stiles smiled softly and then quickly sucked in his breath as Derek’s hand slid over his shoulders in a warm, calloused glide of delicious friction. His other hand strayed across his ass, a finger brushed his dangling balls and Stiles’ cock twitched. He’d always been easy to toss into subspace. Just a bit of harsh words and a powerful presence and Stiles was floating. He was headed there fast, his body shivering in contentment as his Dom’s possession finally sank in. Stiles shifted into submissive headspace and the room faded away to unimportant details. Alpha was in control. Alpha owned him. Alpha would make it all roses and sunshine.

XXX

Stiles was beneath him and Derek’s war with his mind now included a heavy dose of embarrassment for losing control. There was food on the floor, a lamp had been broken at some point, and he might have _hurt_ Stiles. Yet here he was, the sweet, funny, smart slave beneath him, fully submitting and content to be his.

“Mmm, alpha,” Stiles sighed, and Derek’s heart ached. He wanted this with every fiber of his being. Stiles was humming _I’m Walking On Sunshine_. Stiles _hummed_ when he was in headspace, the adorable goofball.

“My slave and I,” Derek stated, “Would feel more secure with the papers _signed_. I can start training afterwards.”

“They’re with the police,” Talia stated softly, her posturing gone and her face pale. It must gall her to realize that she had made such a grievous mistake with her son.

“I have them,” Derek stated, and stood up easily, “Stiles, fetch the file.”

“How do-?”

“The officer recognized me as a Dom from the door,” Derek replied sharply, “When he saw Stiles in my room he let it slide and gave me the file.”

Talia’s lower lip trembled as Stiles hurried to the bedroom and returned with the file.

“Derek, I’m…” Talia tried, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just sign the papers,” Derek opened the file, found Stiles’ bill of sale and paused, “Stiles… table… or… something.”

Stiles stood up, flailed a moment as he searched for a surface, and then grabbed a hard-covered book. He stood in front of Derek and bowed his head, putting the book over his bowed head and holding it against his shoulder blades. Derek smiled and put the paperwork on the book, motioning to his mother.

Talia hurried forward and signed the paperwork, motioning to Deaton where he stood off to one side. He stepped forward. As the resident in charge of the health of the slaves he could stand in as impartial witness. Deaton signed the sale transfer. Derek signed his name with a shaking hand. Then came the moment of truth. Deaton took the book off of Stiles’ back and stepped aside.

“Slave MS-1245, given name Mieczyslaw Stilinski, for the next sixty seconds you are free of all orders and training placed upon you. You are a free man, free to speak and acknowledge the world around you as you see fit. If you choose to, you may voice any discontent you have with this sale or either Dominant at this time in absolute safety. Do you choose to speak?”

Derek couldn’t look at Stiles. He wouldn’t be accused of influencing his decision. He wanted to shake him and demand his answers faster, to get the whole situation over with faster, but he wouldn’t jeopardize their future.

“I… uh… no,” Stiles stated, still disoriented from headspace but speaking clearly, “Tends to get me in trouble, you know?”

“No terms have been set for your sale. Do you have any conditions which must be acknowledged?”

“No,” Stiles replied shaking his head, “I chose to be a slave, you think I want hard stops _now_? I didn’t even think I’d get to have the Master I wanted.”

Derek let out a slow breath in relief. Stiles wanted him. He wanted Derek as his master. Derek would have him. He would own his favorite and his favorite would become his beloved. They would move from adoration and chemistry to love and devotion past a signed piece of paper. They would fight and laugh and make love and they would belong to _each other_.

Deaton continued, “Your ownership is being transferred to Derek Hale from Talia Hale. Do you agree?”

“I agree.”

“Your terms are unaltered, do you accept?”

“I accept.”

“Are you safe and able to consent? You may alert me with any means necessary if you are not and I will immediately remove you from this situation.”

“I’m safe and able to consent,” Stiles replied.

“Do you consent?”

“I consent,” Stiles replied.

“Sign your freedom away,” Deaton replied, “And return to your subjugation under your new Master.”

Stiles took the pen and signed the papers in a hurry before turning back to Derek and kneeling a bit to his left. Stiles grasped Derek’s hand and pressed his lips against his knuckles.

“This one vows to serve his alpha until life or contract ends,” Stiles breathed.

Derek’s heart ached. It felt too much like a marriage ceremony and Derek couldn’t help but believe that Deaton was doing that intentionally. Certainly his mother’s transfer of ownership had been far less personal. Derek reached out once Stiles had released his hands and petted his hair while smiling down at him. He didn’t know what to say so he let his eyes speak for him and Stiles’ slightly glazed ones smiled up at him with such happiness that it was pushing Derek into Top Space. He felt complete, validated, and euphoric. His mother, as always, was determined to ruin it.

“Derek, now that we have that out of the way,” Talia stepped forward, “We need to talk.”

“Not now,” Derek replied sharply.

“I made a mistake,” Talia whispered, “I love you and-“

“Not _now_ ,” Derek growled, “I need time with him.”

“I can’t train you, but I can give you some advice?” She suggested, “Some tips until you can see a trainer and-“

Derek’s eyes flashed and his mother backed up a few steps.

“I love you,” She insisted, “I never meant to… to misunderstand you so badly.”

“You didn’t _listen_ ,” He insisted.

“I’m so sorry,” Talia pleaded.

“Just… give me some time to cool off,” Derek pleaded, “I’m not going to cut you out of my life or something I just… I just wanted _him_ and some fucking _respect_.”

“I always respected you, I just didn’t understand,” Talia pleaded, “I do now. Or I think I do. I’m completely confused but I’m with you and I’ll do what I can to change my behavior so you’re comfortable and happy in our home.”

Derek released Stiles’ head to reach out to his mother. Talia’s hands were twisting together anxiously but once he reached out she did as well, clasping his hand and sobbing at his acceptance of another chance.

“Thank you,” Derek replied softly, “That’s what I needed to hear.”

“I’ll just…” She sniffled and backed up, letting Derek go, “I’ll give you some space.”

“I’ll get my sex ed books!” Joshua chirped, turning and running from the room.

Stiles snickered and Derek gave his retreating little brother a horrified look.

“The books are different for us Doms,” Laura winked.

“This is so weird,” Derek shook his head.

“Not as weird as you submitting all this time,” Laura replied, turning to leave, “I knew you didn’t like that cage for a reason.”

Cora was giving Derek an uncomfortable frown, but she left with their father without a word in return. His father merely gave him a worried glance and Derek knew there would be more to discuss there. His father didn’t speak much, just as Derek was prone to long silences. Derek worried that their relationship would be even more damaged than his and Talia’s. For the time being, however, he just awkwardly accepted his brother’s textbook and waited with baited breath for the door to shut behind Deaton. Once they were alone again Derek let out a long, slow breath as the tension slid from his shoulders at last.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Derek lay on the bed as naked as his beautiful slave was. He was paging through his brother’s textbook but it wasn’t helping him overmuch. He already knew what sex was and what most types of safe sex were in regards to contraception. He knew to make sure Stiles could always tap out- either verbally or by dropping a ball or ringing a bell. He had a vague idea of what was kind of kink was safe and what wasn’t, and that was really the problem. His history meant that he had a lot of violent, unfulfilled fantasies that weren’t tempered with instruction and were reinforced by having had _only_ abusive relationships in the past.

Derek’s fear was that he wouldn’t be able to have a scene with Stiles until he’d undergone extensive therapy, but his sub had needs and Derek’s own dynamic had been not only ignored but also battered down. They both needed to be able to bond and release some tension, and that meant a scene.

“We have two options here,” Derek told him, “We can wait to be more intimate or we can try it out and you can tap out if you need to. I’m calmer now that you’re officially mine. I think I can stop if you need me to.”

“You think?” Stiles asked softly.

“Just being honest,” Derek replied.

“Safe, Sane, Consensual,” Stiles snorted.

“Is that a no?” Derek asked. Stiles bit his lip and Derek frowned, “You _can_ say no. You’re my slave but I’m not trained yet. For now I'm giving you back your autonomy. Maybe our relationship will be more intense someday, but not until I’m trained.”

Stiles nodded, “I want this. I want your hands on me. I want… fuck, I want you to _use me_. I loved fucking, but I want more than that.”

“So do I,” Derek replied, tracing his jawline with a finger, “Go wash up. Prep yourself. I want no hesitation.”

Stiles nodded, smile flickering on his lips as he headed for the bathroom to prepare himself. Derek took a few deep breaths and shook his hands out, telling himself over and again that he could do this. He could have a healthy BDSM scene with his thrall. He would _not_ turn into Kate. Or Jennifer. Or Braeden.

Stiles stepped out of the bathroom, flushed with excitement and half hard at the very idea of Derek’s attention. Derek reached out for Stiles and the young man crossed the room at a fast pace and dropped to his knees at Derek’s feet. He held his hand to his lips and pressed ardent kisses to Derek’s knuckles while the older man smiled down at him lovingly.

“My Alpha,” Stiles breathed.

 


	12. Chapter 12

TW there is mention of rape in this chapter as someone was not able to consent, but parties were not aware at the time. No one is psychologically harmed by the event. 

 

Stiles was nervous as he washed, flushed, and carefully stretched his body. He’d had sex with Derek once already, a truly satisfying and precious moment as Derek had taken him gently and with such consideration. Stiles had been through D/s scenes in the past, but he’d had a shit-ton of rules going in. No bondage. No penetrative sex. No fucking _knives_. Hell, sometimes the sex wasn’t even a part of the negotiations because they’d done so many drugs that an erection wasn’t a thing. They’d just shook their floppy over him until a few drops of (hopefully) come came out and moved on. Now that Derek fully owned him he could do whatever he wanted to Stiles legally without repercussion so long as it didn’t kill him. Since Derek admittedly had no access to healthy BDSM in his history, or as an education from a Dom perspective, it was entirely possible he wouldn’t know when to stop or what even _worked_.

Stiles let out a slow breath and exited the bedroom to find Derek had lit a few candles on the sconce above his bed. He was shirtless and looking through a box of toys. Stiles’ breath nearly left him admiring his pecs.

“Put this on,” Derek instructed, holding out a cock ring.

Stiles accepted it quickly, realized it was a cock-only ring, worked himself to hardness, and slid it over the tip of his cock where he preferred them. He waited to see if Derek would instruct him to lower it to the base of his cock, but the man barely glanced at him. He was studying his toys and laying them out on his bed. He seemed to be even more anxious than Stiles was. Stiles decided it was important to give him some comfort, so he breached protocol to walk around Derek and rub his shoulders.

“Are there…” Derek started, letting out a slow breath as the back rub comforted him, “Are there any toys here that you dislike?”

“I’m yours,” Stiles reminded him, “Anything you use on me is allowed.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s wanted,” Derek replied.

“Your attention is wanted,” Stiles replied.

“Answer the question or I’ll punish you,” Derek grunted out, although the scrunch around his eyes implied he wasn’t quite sure how to do that.

Stiles smothered a fond smile, “I faint at the sight of blood. Anything that will draw blood is something I wouldn’t enjoy.”

“Mm,” Derek grunted and slid a toy that Stiles didn’t recognize off the bed and back into his box, “Good. I wasn’t… I don’t want to disappoint you, but I wasn’t comfortable with it either.”

“Derek, my alpha,” Stiles kissed his shoulder from behind and wrapped both arms around his waist, “This is for _you_ , too. Honestly, I’m not much of a masochist. I can take it, I don’t dislike it, but it’s not something I yearn for. It’s the dominance that does it for me. Give these toys a try, see if _you_ like them, and if you don’t we never have to use them again. I won’t be disappointed or overjoyed. I’ll be neutral. What counts is that you take me, Derek. I don’t care how, just _take me_.”

 

Derek shuddered and then pulled free of Stiles’ caresses and turned to pull him against himself. He gripped the back of his neck and his hip and dragged him in for an all consuming kiss that left Stiles leaning against him hungrily.

“Gods, I want you,” Derek spoke against his lips, voice as gravely as the edges of his lips were rough.

Stiles shivered in longing, “Yes, alpha.”

Derek’s hands moved from holding him to caging him as he grasped each of Stiles’ wrists tightly in his own. Derek’s pupils dilated as Stiles stared into his eyes in surprise at the sudden shift. He squeezed and let out a low groan of longing that had Stiles thighs clenching in excitement. Derek had a lot of experimenting to do. It was going to hurt but it was going to be _so worth it_ to have Derek flying high in top space again the way he had when Stiles had bathed him.

“Oh my alpha,” Stiles whispered as Derek dragged him around to the side of the bed.

Derek released Stiles’ wrists to shove him down and then paused, frowned and shook his head.

“Stand up.”

Stiles scrambled back up and Derek nodded, “MS… Stiles… lie down and put your arms above your head.”

“Yes, my alpha,” Stiles purred, sliding into the bed and making a display of himself as he stretched out. He arched and displayed himself for his Dom, making Derek hum in approval.

Derek moved to the foot of the bed to collect his toys and returned with hand cuffs, a blindfold, and a gag. He considered them all and discarded the gag. Then he instructed Stiles to roll over. The sub turned onto his belly and once more put his arms up for Derek. His Dom climbed onto the bed and Stiles listened to the rattle of cuffs on the wooden board’s cuff links. Cold metal touched his wrists and Stiles shivered. He would have to hold still. Metal cuffs without padding could seriously harm his wrists. Most likely this was all Derek had because his past relationships had been so violent, but Stiles had always used the cutesy padded ones. Luckily he had been taught during his slave training to carefully tolerate the harsh ones.

Derek tapped Stiles’ hip and he lifted it easily, going up on elbows and knees. Derek’s hands moved over Stiles’ ass, an admiring whistle making Stiles smirk. Derek leaned over his whole body, plastering himself against Stiles’ shapely rear in order to tie the blindfold to him. The world went dark and Stiles felt a thrill of excitement that he wasn’t used to. This was normally something he tolerated, but knowing that Derek was experiencing this for the first time was oddly exhilarating.

“It’s like I’m taking _your_ virginity!” Stiles squealed.

“Listen,” Derek replied in a dry tone, “The only one doing any taking here will be me.”

Stiles snickered.

“You know what I mean!” Derek snapped, “Shut up or I’ll gag you too.”

“Yes, alpha,” Stiles snickered.

The ring had kept Stiles from going limp during their discussion, but he’d still softened a bit. Derek leaned up and ran his hands over Stiles’ shoulders, down his back, and over the globes of his ass. He gave him a gentle squeeze and then began to massage the flesh there while Stiles’ cock began to harden further. He was so hungry for Stiles and it was easily the hottest thing Stiles had ever felt. Someone lusting after him? Yes, please! It was ten times better than longing for his _money_ and getting him hooked on smack.

Derek’s grip turned painful and Stiles grinned. _That’s it, alpha. Give it to me. Give me all your ardent need. All your ferocity. Unleash it on me so I can tame you, my beast. Let me be your canvas._

Derek’s finger nails scratched down Stiles' ass, drawing a sharp breath from him at the first tinge of something besides gentle touch.

“If I just use my hands… you won’t be disappointed?”

“Never,” Stiles breathed, “How could I be sorry you _touched_ me?”

“And… wax. I’ve always wanted to play with wax but they said it was tacky and cliché.”

“Drip it _all_ over me,” Stiles purred, “I’m completely hairless _just_ for that purpose. Well, and for bondage tape. Clamps. Couple of reasons now that I think ab-“

A sharp slap on his ass silenced him and he grinned as Derek repeated it when all it garnered was a surprised gasp. Stiles hissed this time as it was over the same spot. Warming up was always the hardest part. The first few strikes would leave him thinking the pain was awful and he didn’t want it. It wasn’t going to be fun. It was going to be sharp and stingy and _suck_. Once his ass was warmed up it was a whole different thing, and usually felt teasing for Stiles. Not this time. Derek’s careful strikes were tempered with the occasional caress that left Stiles gasping and arching back into his touch. He had to carefully sneak up a bit on his knees so another arch wouldn’t harm his wrists because every touch was going to his dick. Derek treasured him, and the fact that there was emotion and tenderness combined with the sharp pain was absolutely riveting.

Stiles found himself gasping and moaning as Derek’s hands became more firm and demanding with each strike. He was building confidence and with that came excitement; he wasn’t just experimenting, Derek was _experiencing_. Stiles could hear his breath speed up and an occasional soft hum of appreciation. Stiles’ ass was warm and tingling, the skin sensitive as his nerve endings ignited. When Derek scratched across his skin with both fingers as if clawing him in reminiscence of his recent feral state Stiles let out a sharp cry of surprise and excitement. His heart was pounding and he was listing into subspace. Derek’s excitement peaked at his sounds and the man leaned down to bite the swell of his abused ass. The tender flesh was already sensitive. It lit up like one of Derek’s candles when his hot mouth covered his skin. His teeth dug into the fat of his bottom, working him with blunt teeth and lathing him with his tongue. Stiles had rarely been aroused by pain, but this was different. His heated flesh felt as if it were connected to his cock. Stiles let out a ragged groan and his dick twitched as each swipe of Derek’s tongue over his captive flesh felt like a lap against his cockhead.

Stiles was vaguely aware that he was letting out embarrassing sounds consisting of moans, croaks, squeaks, and a low, deep, moan that was nearly continuous when bitten. Derek was huffing a bit in excitement, but overall had remained calm. Finally the Dom paused and leaned over Stiles to grab a candle from the sconce above his bed. Stiles held his breath. The bite had felt amazing on his ass _, so what about hot wax?_ Stiles started to hyperventilate and Derek soothed him with a gentle caress across his bottom.

“You good?”

“So, so good,” Stiles whimpered, “So good for you, my alpha.”

“Shh,” Derek eased, “I like your moans. Save the babbling for when we’re relaxing.”

“Yes, alpha,” Stiles agreed, letting out a slow breath to calm himself.

“H-here it comes,” Derek stuttered, sounding unsure of himself once more.

Heat hit Stiles’ lower back and he groaned in disappointment without meaning to. Derek gave his ass a sharp retaliatory slap and rightfully called him rude, but he caught on to what Stiles wanted. The next drop hit Stiles’ reddened arse and he let out a keen as lights flashed behind his eyes. It was too much at first, stealing his breath and making him gasp loudly. Stiles arched back for more and Derek let out a soft moan. A pile of it flowed across his ass, dripping down and making Stiles let out three sharp cries of excitement. The flare of too-much pain turned quickly into a drip down his cheeks that reminded Stiles of hot come sliding down his backside. To Stiles’ shock his balls drew up in anticipation of his own release.

“Oh _gods!_ ” Stiles cried out throatily.

“Fuck,” Derek panted, “Stiles, fucking hell. You’re gorgeous.”

More drops and Stiles was huffing like he’d run a race, arching back as his cock leaked onto the bed. He couldn’t begin to form words. He was gone on pleasure and he hadn’t even _expected_ it. Derek’s application of pain and pleasure continued as he leaned down to lick along Stiles’ stretched hole. The gentle tonguing turned into a thorough rim job as Derek dripped more hot wax and Stiles practically thrust himself back onto his tongue. Derek growled and gave his face a shake, motorboating Stiles’ bubble butt. Scruff hit the parts of Stiles’ soft skin that Derek hadn’t slapped or heated up while his soft tongue teased his softness.

“Derek! Please, please, please!” Stiles pleaded frantically.

Derek straightened up, hands moving to sharply brush the wax away with calloused fingers, “Please what?”

“Please…” Stiles whined, not really sure what he was asking for. More wax? More tongue? To finally be fucked? “I just want to _come!”_

“Greedy,” Derek purred, scratching down Stiles’ ass to both knock more wax loose and light up Stiles’ flesh.

“FUCK!” Stiles shouted, hips jerking uncontrollably.

“I don’t think I can wait to any longer,” Derek admitted with surprise at his own need.

Previously Derek had had difficulty performing with lovers, requiring the use of medication or a strap on. His lust ended when their scenes began. He could find them attractive, but not their actions to him. Now he had a beautiful slave before him who he could act out his _real_ fantasies on and Derek was shocked by his ardent response. His need was palpable. His lust overwhelming as he slicked up his cock and lined himself up with Stiles’ pre-stretched and now well-rimmed hole.

Stiles knew that this was a pinnacle moment for Derek, but he was having trouble focusing as he soured through on the edge of subspace. He could feel Derek’s hand trembling as he held the tip of his cock at Stiles’ rim and traced it with the head of his cock. He could hear his breath stuttering as he pressed forward. Derek let out a low moan of relief as he slid into Stiles’ body and Stiles soared into his headspace at the sound of his obvious pleasure. This was what Stiles craved the most. Satisfying a Dom. Stiles had managed it through good behavior, submission, and jokes in the past. This was the first time he’d managed it through a scene, specifically one that involved sex. Yet here he was, Derek’s instrument to play, and they were making such sweet music.

Stiles’ arms were shaking as his head hung low. He was moaning consistently as Derek hungrily fucked into his body, his cock throbbing with need at every caress across his prostate. Stiles had passed into subspace, which put him past the craving for an orgasm and into a state of euphoria. He could still come, and would at the simplest touch, but he was beyond it. Stiles was in a happy place where Derek’s scent, the sound of his pleasure, and the feel of his coarse touch was music to Stiles’ ears. When his alpha reached around him and worked the ring off the head of his cock Stiles couldn’t wait for a command. The first ribbon of come hit Derek’s fingers the second the ring was off. He pulsed onto Derek’s palm as he rubbed it over Stiles’ sensitive head. Stiles heard himself let out an embarrassing squeal as his orgasm left him convulsing in pleasure. Derek was fully seated in Stiles’ body, humming in approval as Stiles writhed back against his thighs while speared on his length.

Stiles may have been done, but Derek was far from through with him. The alpha released Stiles’ cock to press his fingers to his submissive’s mouth. Stiles suckled Derek’s fingers eagerly. While most subs claimed to love the taste of come falsely, Stiles had always been a glutton for it. He licked up his own from his own fingers regularly and teasingly compared the taste to that of a delicious baked potato with too much salt and butter. He suckled on Derek’s fingers gratefully and his enthusiasm had the man growling out an eager approval.

Derek pushed himself upright and began to rabbit fuck Stiles properly, throwing his energy into chasing his own release. Stiles let himself sag forward, resting his forehead on the bed and giving Derek control of his entire body. Stiles’ satiation was obvious, and the feel of needing to hold up his exhausted subs body as he took his own pleasure spurned Derek on. He gripped his marked up bottom tightly in both hands, squeezing the soft flesh, and fucked into him hungrily. The alpha’s sharp thrusts ended with a hard press into Stiles’ body as he came in long, satisfying pulses. Derek lazily moved in and out of Stiles’ body for a few more thrusts, just basking and letting out soft sounds of pleasure while Stiles floated in blissful near-slumber. Subspace always left him floaty if he managed to come during. He knew he was humming again but couldn’t place the song. He hoped Derek wasn’t expecting him to get up and clean everything. As a slave it was expected. Slaves didn’t get aftercare. They got to clean up.

Derek slid out of Stiles’ body and then quickly grabbed his hips again when he nearly tipped over. He leaned over him and fumbled with the cuffs.

“Remind me to use ropes next time. You’re a limp noodle. Are you even awake or are you humming Mozart in your sleep? Brat. Come on. Up!”

Stiles sighed heavily as he pushed himself up onto his knees. His elbows were wobbly.

“Up, slave,” Derek gave him a sharp slap on his ass and Stiles yelped, giggled, and fell off the bed while attempting to rise. Derek laughed and gave him a hand up, pulling him in to kiss him slowly, “Come on. You can do it, my favorite.”

“Mm, yes alpha. What are your orders?”

“Clean up yourself and then change the sheets. They’re a wreck of wax, lube, and come.”

“Yes, alpha.”

“Gods, look at you,” Derek breathed, “You’re gorgeous.”

“I am yours, my alpha,” Stiles purred. He was floating somewhere to the upper left of his own head, watching himself sway and smile giddily at Derek while his alpha praised him.

“Go on. Shower. Bed. Wait,” Derek had him pause on his way there, “Are you injured?”

“Only in ways I _like_ ,” Stiles purred.

“Do you need Deaton?” Derek chuckled.

“No, alpha.”

“Go on, then.”

Derek stood in the bathroom, not willing to treat Stiles like a household slave by using and dismissing him. He was treating him like a _personal_ slave, and for that Stiles felt like he was glowing as the water dripped over him. He smiled into the hot spray and sang softly to himself as he scrubbed his body clean. When he was nearly through Derek stepped into the shower with him and gestured to his genitals. Stiles dropped to his knees and washed him quickly and judicially, knowing that it wasn’t the time to seduce. When they emerged he accepted a towel from Derek who met his eyes with an intense stare and soft smile. Stiles let his eyes slide down submissively and the smile broadened. Derek dressed in boxers and a soft pair of comfortable sweatpants, but when he turned for his robe Stiles was holding it out. Derek slipped his arms into it and turned to press a kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“The bed, my pet, and be quick about it.”

Stiles smothered his exhaustion and hurried about cleaning the bed. Derek’s repeated commands, both silent and vocal, were keeping him floating on the edge of subspace. He was functional rather than a limp ragdoll of bliss, but he was euphoric and giddy. Stiles hummed contentedly as he worked, enjoying the world around him. He got lost stroking a silky pattern on the bedding until Derek cleared his throat. Finally he had the bed cleaned, sheets changed, and the quilt pulled up into a proper tuck. Derek rewarded him with another long, tender kiss that left Stiles sighing in bliss.

“Gods, look at you. Still floating?”

Stiles nodded.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Is this what it’s like to be high?”

Stiles frowned a bit and shook his head, “Bit different. Not as… violent.”

“ _Not_ as violent? The subspace or the prequel to it?”

“The subspace. High is… it’s scary sometimes. Dark. This is beautiful and… soft… satisfying.”

“Is that… better?”

Stiles nodded enthusiastically, “ _Much_ better. You’re better. This is better. All the better.”

“Good,” Derek stroked Stiles' cheek, “I want that for you. Happiness. Sobriety. A future. Is this a future you want?”

Stiles was half tempted to joke that it was too late to change his mind without a legitimate reason to squirm out, but he recognized the importance and smiled softly, “It is.”

“It’s dinner time. We’re going to go down to dinner and you’re going to attend to me,” Derek replied, a bit of excitement flashing in his eyes, “Afterwards you will serve my parents dessert to thank them for your new position in our household and my life.”

“Yes, alpha.”

“A decision for tonight. Last night you slept in your cage both for safety and because… well… I like the idea of you being kept away from the world. Tonight you are legally mine. You may choose. Sleep in your master’s bed, secure in my arms, or in your cage, secure in my ownership.”

Stiles flailed a bit. He was in no mental state at the moment to make a decision simply because his brain didn't feel like it. He wanted _both_ , “May I think on it, alpha?”

Derek nodded, “Meanwhile dress yourself. I… hm… I don’t want you in the house uniform. Wear the pants for the padded knees. I’ll locate you a top.”

Derek turned away and searched his dresser drawers while Stiles hurried back to the slave quarters for his pants in just a towel. Once there he hesitated at boxers. Derek had said to _just_ wear his pants. Stiles slipped the pants on but packed up his spare underwear, socks, pants, and shoes to take with him to Derek’s rooms in a hurry. It was as Stiles finished stuffing everything into a plastic bag that the door opened and Scott walked in.

“MS-1245!” Scott spoke sharply.

Stiles moved to kneel and then paused. He was no longer a household slave. He should _only_ be kneeling to Derek. Stiles turned and bowed instead.

“How may Derek’s slave serve you?” Stiles spoke easily.

“They told me you were missing!” Scott stated, “We thought you ran away. Wait... _are_ you running away?”

“Uh… no,” Stiles frowned at the floor, wondering lazily how the hell the man had missed such an obvious clue, “Master Hale bought me. I am his personal slave now.”

“Oh…” Scott wondered, “Is Isaac with you?”

“Isaac?”

“IL-5421.”

“Oh, no, sir. I haven’t seen him in days.”

“He’s missing, too,” Scott replied, sounding sorrowful, “He’s a nice guy and I really liked him.”

“My apologies, sir,” Stiles replied.

Scott let out a lonesome sigh, “I hope he’s okay.”

“If I see him I will tell him to report to you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Scott replied, “Are things okay with Derek? You can come to Deaton or I if they aren’t.”

Stiles smiled softly down at the floor where a respectable slave kept their eyes, “They’re wonderful.”

“That’s really nice,” Scott replied softly, his voice a bit sad.

Scott turned away without further comment and Stiles hurriedly grabbed his bag and fled back to Derek’s rooms. Derek had found a shirt for Stiles in a dark blue with an REM band symbol on it. He’d cut out the back of it below the collar and was waiting for Stiles with a smirk on his face. Stiles hurried in, tossed his bag into his cage, and dropped to his knees before Derek. Derek slipped the shirt over his head and Stiles moved his arm to accept it on his torso. The man walked around and began to write on Stiles with a permanent marker. Stiles frowned a bit. If Derek were writing his initials his siblings would _laugh_ at him. It was juvenile, something D/s kids did in high school along with trading promise collars, but a Dom without training might not know that.

“Go on and look in the mirror,” Derek ordered.

Stiles hurried into the bathroom to do as he’d been told and paused, eyebrows going up in surprise. Scott had shaken him out of subspace but upon looking in the mirror and seeing the tattoo that graced Derek’s back traced out on his own Stiles went tumbling down the rabbit hole again. He wondered if he’d ever properly be outside of subspace with Derek constantly on top of him making him feel like a good, precious, needed serf.

“Oh, gods, Derek,” Stiles breathed.

“Mm,” Derek purred, stepping in to admire him in the bathroom. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple, “To the dining room, my favorite.”

Stiles walked five steps behind Derek as appropriate, head down, hands still at his sides. They reached the dining room and Derek let out a slow breath before lifting his chin high. The family wasn’t sitting. They were all talking and standing, but once Derek entered it cut off suddenly indicating it had been about him.

Derek paused just inside the entryway, carefully meeting the gazes of everyone in the room with the exception of his father who kept his eyes down. Stiles stepped up to Derek's right and stayed there with his head down as his training informed him to do. He waited and eventually Derek indicated him with a motion of his hand.

“Good evening,” Derek stated with more confidence in his voice than Stiles had expected him to muster after a single session together, “I would like to introduce you all to my companion and personal slave. This is MS-1245.”

Stiles noted that Derek did _not_ give them his name. Stiles’ name belonged to Derek just as Stiles belonged to him. It was precious to Stiles because it indicated that he considered Stiles’ nickname his true name, giving him a kind of respect that Stiles hadn’t expected. By introducing him to his family he was claiming him on a public level: no one in the house could order Stiles to do something that Derek wouldn’t approve of and if they did so Stiles was legally obligated to walk away without following through.

The family stared in surprise at them both as Derek stepped up to his chair, reached for it, jerked his hand back as if burnt, and took a sharp step to the side. Stiles hurried forward and pulled Derek’s chair out for him. The man sat down with an excited smile on his face. Stiles pushed his chair in and Derek fumbled the bounce that got him there, but managed to get properly seated eventually. Stiles picked up his napkin, unfolded it, and placed it in his lap before kneeling beside him.

Derek waited with his eyes down before recalling to lift his head again and glanced up to smile at his family, “Well, what are we all waiting for? Guests?”

“No,” Talia forced out, looking bewildered, “No, my apologies. We weren’t expecting you to join us. You’re… feeling better?”

“Yes, very,” Derek replied.

“Ew,” Laura decided, “Did you make him bathe after?”

Derek favored her with a disgusted glare, “Of _course_!”

“Laura!” Talia scolded.

Laura gave her mother a nod of apology and sat down in her chair. It triggered the movements of the rest of them and soon everyone was seated for dinner. Derek had to keep jerking his head up as the slaves and Scott moved around them to serve their starter. It was a soup and the entire family was sitting still rather than eating. They were waiting on _Derek_ , but Derek was new at this type of situation. He seemed to have frozen and quite forgotten what to do. Stiles carefully reached up to poke his roll. Derek jumped a bit and dipped the bread into his soup. Holding his spoon beneath it to catch drips he gave Stiles a bite. Having passed their test, the meal progressed with Derek occasionally using the large spoon to feed Stiles bits of food.

Household slaves ate basic, but healthy meals. They were not allowed spices or desserts. Just meat, veggies, fruit, and carbs. They were allowed seconds if pregnant or ill, but refused overindulgence. One young slave in training had asked about vegetarian meals and was told that he could request it but it was possible he’d be denied. Upon giving up his rights he was also giving up his beliefs. Whatever household he ended up in he was expected to take up their religion, culture, and dietary habits. Personal slaves were subject to the whim of their owner. Derek _could_ have ordered Stiles his bland meal. Instead he was finger and spoon-feeding him his own and Stiles was in _heaven_. He’d always loved food, and the thought of giving up curly fries had nearly stopped him entering the program completely. Now he was seriously fighting down a food boner and it was obscene. Derek noticed it and started paying more attention to Stiles than his own plate or family members, but his indulgence helped everyone relax and while Derek smirked at Stiles’ appetite the family began to chat among themselves at last.

“That test was rigged, mom,” Cora whined.

“Your punishment is going to be rigged if you don’t pass AP Science,” Her mother scolded.

“Your face is rigged,” Joshua decided.

“Joshua! Apologize to your sister!” Talia scolded.

“Why?” Joshua sneered, “I’m not a _sub!”_

A moment of silence and Derek stiffened a bit but continued to ignore them.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a sub,” Talia stated, “And even Dom’s have to apologize when they do something wrong. Apologize or go to your room.”

Joshua mumbled an apology and Derek pointed to the paper napkin so Stiles would mop himself up. Stiles obeyed and smiled up at Derek dreamily before letting his eyes slide down submissively. Derek looked ready to pounce on him but was restraining himself.

Jethro was sitting at his wife’s side in a chair rather than kneeling, as Derek presumably had before coming out as a Dom. When he wished to speak he tapped the table twice and Talia motioned to him to give him permission, as her mouth was full at the time.

“Darling, what ever happened with that slave? Any word from the police?” Jethro asked Talia.

The table all took a glance at Derek, who turned back to the them, worried and frowning, “I’d forgotten. We haven’t heard back?”

Talia swallowed and sipped her water, shaking her head as she frowned, “I was too caught up in what was going on here. I completely forgot to call them. I suppose if they’d found something they’d have checked in since he was with us. Since they went missing at the same time, perhaps your MS-1245 has some news?”

Derek glanced at Stiles and gestured to his own lips to give him permission to speak.

Stiles didn’t want to. Not only was he _not_ aware of any news on IL-5421, he was also not willing to crawl out of his euphoria to deal with the loss. He was a nice kid. Stiles hoped he’d run and was with his family picking out a new career.

“This one knows nothing,” Stiles replied, but just as he said that his eyes landed on Scott.

The servant Scott looked close to tears. He was standing behind Deaton twisting a napkin in his hands looking ready to break. When Stiles caught his eyes Scott’s widened dramatically and he sucked in a breath. Stiles narrowed his own eyes and that made everyone looking at him turn to stare at Scott.

Scott gave them a look of absolute horror and blurted out, “I RAPED HIM!”

Deaton gave Scott a disgusted look while the rest of the table gasped in shock. Only Derek chuckled and shook his head.

“You can’t rape a slave. They sign up for this.”

“Not IL-5421,” Talia whispered in horror, “We didn’t tell you because we thought you were a sub, but IL-5421 was a prisoner slave.”

“Why was a prisoner slave in a household with _children_?” Derek asked in shock.

“I read his case,” She replied, “He wasn’t dangerous. He killed the father who had been violently abusing him. If I’d known about his case earlier I might have gotten him reduced charges, but as it is he was already tried when I found out about him. He never should have faced a full sentence.”

“So he shouldn’t have been solicited for sex or BDSM scenes _at all_ ,” Peter added, eyes hard as he studied Scott’s trembling figure, “Exactly what were you thinking?”

“I just… he was so beautiful and I asked his permission, but then he vanished and when I fetched his file for the police I saw he wasn’t a voluntary slave,” Scott whispered, looking fully horrified at himself.

“Then you were unaware that he wasn’t able to consent?” Talia asked.

Scott nodded miserably, “I _never_ would have touched him if I’d known that he was an involuntary slave. Never.”

“Deaton, take Scott to your office,” Talia replied, giving him a pitying look, “We’ll have to call the police again, but I will make sure they are aware that his file hadn’t been shared with you.”

Scott walked away with Deaton and Talia sighed heavily, “So much for making sure we have enough servants to run the house. We haven’t even enough for dinner!”

“Stiles,” Derek ordered softly.

Stiles jumped to his feet, well and truly out of subspace with the horrifying revelation about Isaac. He was worried about the young man, now. He might be traumatized, or he might be a seriously disturbed young man, and Scott was headed for serious trouble through no fault of his own. Stiles hurried to take away dinner and bring out dessert, serving Talia first as the head of the household, Derek second as his personal master, and the rest of the family in order of title and age. Finally dessert was set down and Stiles knelt by Derek again. He’d saved him two bites of cake and Stiles accepted them with a contented hum.

“I was hoping to talk to you about school tonight,” Derek stated.

“You’re thinking of doing something related to cars?” Talia guessed.

“Yes,” Derek nodded, “Building them, actually. Perhaps starting my own company since I already have a significant amount of business courses done.”

“That sounds lovely, dear,” Talia replied, holding out her hand to Jethro. He handed her her purse and she dug out her credit card, “Pass this to your brother, won’t you?”

The card moved down the line of siblings and Derek took it from his youngest brother’s hand with a relieved smile. She hadn’t grilled him at all! Stiles internally cheered, but externally reached up to give Derek’s thigh a supportive squeeze.

“Thanks,” Derek stated, “I’ll have it back to you before bed.”

“I’ll be up late dealing with all of this,” Talia sighed, wiping off her mouth and standing, “Derek, would you be so kind as to lend us MS-1245 for the night?”

“Not a problem, mother,” Derek replied easily, tapping Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles jumped up to fetch the trolly and begin clearing off the table. Derek’s family left as they finished eating and Stiles took plates here and there. He refreshed Derek’s glass of water since he was apparently remaining to stare at Stiles as he worked. Stiles liked it. Derek was adjusting to this situation fairly well, given that he had been so very anxious at first.

“Are you sore?” Derek asked out of the blue.

Stiles went still in surprise, put down the rag he was using to wipe up the table, and bowed to Derek as he answered, “No, alpha.”

“How… how _do_ you feel? Back there?”

“Well used.”

“Isn’t that the same as sore?”

Stiles thought about it for a second, “No, alpha. It is the same as satisfied.”

“I always hated bottoming,” Derek murmured, “But then again topping wasn’t good for me once the pain started either. You seemed to like it.”

“Yes, alpha,” Stiles replied quickly, “I did. I was surprised by how much I did.”

“Why?” Derek asked.

Stiles thought about it for a moment, “I never trusted anyone I did a scene with before. We signed a quick contract, I was high most of the time, and I was always sort of on edge. It was… well, it was tame prostitution. I didn’t have sex with them, just a scene, but I sold myself to them for drugs and it was… it was just me tolerating it. I guess I haven’t really explored what I do and don’t like in bed in _any_ way. I thought I knew what I liked, but I don’t.”

“So what I did worked for you?” Derek asked, sipping his water and staring at the wall across from him while Stiles worked.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I thought it might be too tame.”

“I don’t know. I loved it. It had me _really_ hot. I guess we can experiment with escalation together.”

“Yeah,” Derek replied softly, “Are you almost done?”

“Well, I’m usually expected to do dishes after clearing the table…”

“Go ahead,” Derek replied, “I’m going to lie down for a bit. Wake me up when you come in and we’ll enroll me in my classes before turning in.”

“Yes, alpha,” Stiles replied, sensing the change in tone and bowing quickly to him.

Derek rose and left, leaving Stiles to hurry to the kitchen with his trolly full of dishes and start clean up. Normally all the servants and slaves would be working together, but it was just Stiles left with VB-3456 and ER-2345. The two had finished cleaning the pans and were working on prepping for breakfast when Stiles walked in with the dishes. VB was usually a grounds servant, so he wasn’t used to being in the kitchens. Since IL had vanished he’d apparently been shuffled back.

“What the hell?” ER asked in shock.

“Thought you were dead,” VB stated in that bland voice of his that hid so much of his intelligence. Stiles had already found out that the groundskeeper/chauffer was a veritable genius. He’d sold himself into slavery to pay his grandmother’s medical bills and had two more years on his term. He was going into chemistry and Stiles suspected he would be seeing the dark man on the news someday.

“Got myself bought by Dominant Derek!” Stiles crowed, bouncing eagerly.

He hadn’t had a chance to gloat with Scott because he was a higher rank than Stiles, but now he could coo about it all he wanted.

“Dominant?” ER asked disdainfully, “Really?

“He’s not very obvious, but he _totally_ is. He had me floating in subspace for _hours!”_

“Dishes makes you float in subspace,” ER mocked.

“Yeah, speaking of,” VB indicated the sink and Stiles headed over.

“Laugh all you want, but I’m on cloud nine. I never thought I’d be a _personal_ slave!”

“I did,” ER growled, “I’m too pretty for this shit.”

“Aww, you’ll find someone,” Stiles replied.

“I already have,” ER replied saucily, bouncing her hip against VB’s, “And just for funsies Dominant Peter’s been fucking me cross eyed, so I get to have my cake and eat it, too!”

“Any of you seen or heard from IL?” Stiles asked, “They’re still looking for him.”

There was a moment of silence and Stiles turned to give them a narrow gaze. VB was frowning at ER and he didn’t look ready to give in. ER, however, stepped forward to speak.

“He’s safe, but we’re not telling you where he is.”

“Okay. Fair. Is it because of Scott?”

“Not exactly,” VB stated, “He freaked out because he thinks he’s-“

“He’s in love with Scott,” ER squealed happily.

“OK, and he has to hide, why?” Stiles asked.

“Because he says he can’t be around him without wanting him, but he’s essentially in prison. They can’t touch each other or it’s rape because IL can’t technically consent.”

“Breaking News: They already touched and Scott’s in trouble,” Stiles explained, “He seems like a nice guy. Did he really not know Isaac was a non-consensual slave?”

“Last I heard,” ER frowned, “IL didn’t tell us until he ran for it.”

“Why did he run exactly?” Stiles asked, “If he and Scott were already doing the nasty, why not keep it a secret and keep at it?”

“He was worried _Scott_ would get in trouble.”

“Too late,” VB replied blandly.

“Yeah, so why not just say where he went and a judge can straighten it out when he refuses to press charges?” Stiles asked.

“It’s not that simple,” VB replied.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s innocent,” ER stated, “He didn’t kill his father, but he knows who did and the bastard’s just waiting until he can get his hands on IL.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles looked back and forth between them and then snickered, “Yeah, sure. He’s innocent.”

“I know, right?” ER laughed, “What a riot. He was pretty dramatic about it all.”

“He’s convinced if someone goes hunting for _him_ as a runaway slave that they’ll eventually find the villain tailing him,” VB explained, “And once he’s cleared he’ll be a civilian and can enter into a legal partnership with Scott.”

“The nut has their future dog picked out and everything,” ER laughed.

“Husky,” VB added.

“Geez, Scott can really pick em, huh?”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” ER laughed, “Apparently he once dated the niece of the lady who tried to get all creepy on Sub- I mean _Dom_ \- Derek when he was little.”

“Someone tried to get creepy on him?” Stiles asked in surprise. He'd known there was abuse, but creepy was a different term. It sounded like a stalker.

“Yeah, Dom Kate Argent,” ER replied, “She went after him while he was a minor, but he asked his big sister for advice and she went _straight_ to their parents and they called the police. She didn’t actually touch him so she never went to jail, but apparently she was the first in a long line of messed up women.”

“He mentioned some abusive relationships,” Stiles nodded, “He’s so freaking precious. How could anyone hurt him?”

“Especially since he’s a Dom,” ER wondered, “You sure he’s not a switch?”

“Positive. Just a super repressed Dom. My theory is he’s got some form of social delay that had him not making eye contact. His parents saw that and assumed sub. From then on out they basically forced him to be submissive even when he rallied against it.”

“Damn, that’s harsh,” ER replied, “Well, we’re done here. You good?”

Stiles only had a few more dishes to do, so he nodded and the two lovers trotted off to bed. Stiles finished his work, drained the sink, put the pans that had dried away, and headed for his rooms with Derek at a fast pace. He was nearly to his alpha’s rooms when Switch Peter came out of a bathroom and Stiles had to quickly back against a wall and drop his eyes respectfully. The man didn’t pass him. Instead he walked up and stood there studying Stiles intrusively. It made him uncomfortable. When Derek had acknowledged him outside of protocol Stiles had been intrigued, but Peter creeped him out.

“Strange,” The man stated, “What is it about you that made my nephew finally come crashing out of the backdrop he’d settled into?”

Stiles decided it was a rhetorical question and stayed silent and still.

“You aren’t beautiful,” Peter mused, “Pretty yes, but not beautiful. Smart, perhaps? Did you manipulate him? He’s so very easy to manipulate. Just losing Paige was enough to make him more… malleable.”

Stiles felt a lurch of alarm in his gut and all sorts of warning signs went off in his mind. Stiles may have left his father behind to stew in his drunken ways, but he was still the Sherriff’s son through and through. He knew a dangerous man when he saw one and this one sounded as if he were up to something.

“Well,” Peter stated in an alarmingly threatening tone, “We’ll soon find out.”

Stiles tensed himself to run the last few meters to Derek’s rooms and safety, but the ominous statement wasn’t followed up with action. Peter turned and headed back for his suite without another glance back at Stiles. The young slave shuddered and then hurried to his rooms with Derek, letting himself in through Derek’s bedroom door entrance. Derek was in bed reading a book, but at the distress on Stiles’ face he sat up fully and frowned deeply. Stiles scrambled up onto the bed and dropped his forehead down onto the bed sheets in a full bow.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, “What is it?”

A warm hand carded through his hair and Stiles was instantly soothed, “This one is worried.”

“Why?” Derek asked, “We’ve squared everything away. You’re mine now. No one can take you from me. Ever.”

“And for that, this one is happy and relieved,” Stiles replied, sinking deeper into submission and letting the calm that was giving control to Derek wash over him, “This one is afraid that your uncle means to harm you.”

“My… uncle?” Derek asked, “Why? Did he touch you?!”

Derek’s hand went from caressing Stiles’ hair to gripping it, pulling his head up to stare into Stiles’ face in search of the truth even as his hands flew down to check the fastenings on Stiles’ clothes. Stiles’ eyes slid down, but in submission rather than shame. The sharp pain across his scalp was reassuring. Derek wanted him. Derek was in control. Derek would protect. Derek was alpha.

Stiles shook his head as best he could in negation, “This one was being a wall and Peter was speaking at this one. This one did not reply or make eye contact. This one was not touched.”

“What did he say?”

Stiles relayed the conversation as best he could, and Derek remained still as he spoke. When Stiles fell silent he pushed his head back down onto the bedding and held it there with a firm grip. Stiles breathed in the scent of Derek’s bedding and felt calm permeate his body. Whatever was happening here, Derek was going to handle it.

“He manipulated me back then,” Derek spoke softly, “I wonder if he’s done so again? He introduced me to Kate later, but what about the others?”

Derek continued to pet Stiles’ hair while Stiles worried, “May this one ask about Paige?”

“She was a young girl a grade below me in middle school. We were in love. Well… lust, I suppose. I believe she was a switch. Back then… I was hoping I was as well. I kept wanting to be with her and… gods, when I pictured her beneath me it was not in the least bit as a submissive. My uncle told me that I should practice with her. See if I could find my dominant side. He gave me… unethical advice. Since he was my uncle and I was naive I took it more seriously than the lessons at school. I accosted her at school after hours, restrained her, gagged her, blindfolded her, and dragged her into a closet. I thought it was romantic based on _his advice_. I was so fucking ignorant. She was sobbing and afraid. I realized how wrong it all was before it went further, but she was terrified of me. She never went near me again. I’m lucky she didn’t report me, although it would have been what I deserved.”

“Your distrust of your instincts makes sense now,” Stiles whispered, “He poisoned you against your natural state.”

“Kate came for me in high school. Her family owned a business… they were his company's rivals, if I recall. Hunter Industries. I always thought that was a bit odd. Her actions with me shamed her and she was disinherited. She was a vicious woman. I imagine she’d have been difficult to work with had she attained her inheritance as the head of her family. It would have made Peter’s business more… complicated.”

“And the others?” Stiles prompted.

“I don’t know,” Derek replied, “Jennifer was a teacher… Shit.”

“What is it, my alpha?” Stiles asked as Derek’s hand stilled.

“Jennifer was a teacher at his _children’s_ school,” Derek breathed, “But why? What did having her arrested do for him?”

“Was she their teacher?”

“No, several grades above.”

“Was she in a position to move up?”

“Not that she told me.”

“What about classes? Did she teach a subject they didn’t excel at?”

“Yes, now you mention it. She was a mathematics teacher, and two of his whelps are piss poor at math. One of them he plans on having as his heir.”

“Is the teacher that got the job easier?”

“Possibly,” Derek shrugged and Stiles noted the motion by the hand on the back of his head, “You’re so smart.”

“You’re the one who goes to college.”

“Mm,” Derek grunted, “I need you to sign me up for classes still, but first I want to think this through. I dated a few people off and on after that, but nothing monumental happened. Next was Braeden. She… she abducted me. Ransomed my family. The thing is I was wary at that point, so I’d had her sign a dozen different contracts before I agreed to even be alone with her. She met my mother. Multiple times.”

“And Peter?”

“Well… yes, but what does he get from me being ransomed?”

“Did your parents pay out?”

“Yes, and she managed to hide the money so it never turned up even after… fuck. He’s got the money.”

“Why would he need it? Unless... He’s not the Hale heir?”

“No, my mother is,” Derek replied, “He gets a huge sum of money each month from my grandparent’s trust, but that’s it. Each Dom heir gets one, the switches get a smaller one, but the subs get… subs get…”

“Alpha?” Stiles asked.

“Oh my gods,” Derek breathed, “Subs get a dowry when married, and that’s _it!_ Every child my mother has that becomes a Dom is a chunk of my grandparent’s trust that won’t go to the rest. It gets divided equally between all Dom heirs. My mother had all Dom children and Peter’s been having his wife crank out kids like there’s no tomorrow, but _every one has been a sub_. Peter himself is a switch, so he gets less than us but his kids won’t get _anything_ but a bit of money to their spouses some day. It’s still huge to most people, but if he’s greedy… fucking hell. I need a calculator. Now.”

“This one is _very_ good at math.”

Derek rattled off numbers and Stiles multiplied them. When he finished Derek let out a slow breath and whispered, “That’s what he would have gotten if he’d been identified as a Dom this whole time instead of a switch. My ransom. It’s what _he_ would have gotten as a fucking Dom!”

“The stipend starts at adulthood for Dom’s?”

“Yes.”

“And his children are minors?”

“Yeah, he married way late in life. His wife is twenty years younger than him.”

“Then… it’s possible that you aren’t the only person he’s manipulated into being a submissive. This way he has no one challenging him in his own home while he has child after child. They don’t drain the money he wants, and he can marry them off at some point. Maybe he’ll even convince them to turn over their dowry, since manipulation is his main tactic.”

Derek was silent for a long time, just gripping Stiles’ hair as he wrapped his brain around the situation.

“I need to speak to my mother. Urgently.”

“My father is a Sherriff,” Stiles spoke up on a whim, “He can help your family though this. If you go to your mother now she may not believe you, or it may spiral into something dangerous. With my father investigating we could have him head straight to jail instead.”

“My gods, I think I love you,” Derek breathed, pulling Stiles up and pressing their lips together firmly for a brief kiss, “How the hell are you so brilliant?”

“Street smarts,” Stiles replied easily.

“I’m going to give you _the world_ ,” Derek promised.

“Just give me your attention, my alpha,” Stiles replied easily.

Material things were nothing, after all. He missed video games, but in relation to his drug habit those were unimportant. He needed the security of Derek’s firm hand to keep him safe. Derek recognized Stiles’ anxiety and nodded sharply.

“Stand up,” Derek ordered.

Stiles hurried to obey and Derek rose, fetching his robe and wrapping himself up. Derek headed into his sitting room and had Stiles drop to all fours in front of his easy chair. He sat down and put his feet up on Stiles’ back. Stiles relaxed considerably inside as he held his pose for Derek. Derek opened his laptop and resumed applying for his courses with his mother’s card.

“I can’t wait until I have the funds that I was denied,” Derek stated, “Independence is certainly comforting. I think given the Peter situation I’d like to move out, but I’m worried about my cousins and younger siblings. What is your father’s phone number?”

Stiles recited it and Derek took a deep breath before ringing him up. While the phone rang he sat up fully and put a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck again.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski?” Derek spoke into the phone, sounding confident and authoritative, “No, you don’t know me. My name is Derek Hale. I own your son, Stiles.”

Stiles could hear shouting, but he couldn’t make out the words. Derek seemed uninterested in arguing with Stiles’ father. He just waited him out. It paid to have been trained as a submissive. Eventually Noah ran out of steam and Derek began to speak again.

“I assure you, he’s doing very well. I care a great deal about him. If you’d like you can speak to him when we’re through discussing my reason for calling.”

A pause. He’d baited him and Stiles was proud. He had to listen to get to Stiles and Derek had the law on his side.

“I have reason,” Derek explained, “To suspect that my uncle is abusing his children. He’s already engaged in abuse towards… a member of my family… and I am convinced that he engineered my abduction a year ago.”

There was a moment of silence that had Stiles anxious for a bit.

“No,” Derek continued, “I don’t think the local police will be much help. They couldn’t track this to him the first time. I was rather intending to hire you as a private investigator. Stiles speaks highly of your deductive skills… no… yes… alright, I’ll see if he’s willing to talk to you. Stiles?”

Stiles let out a slow breath and nodded. Derek gave him the signal to come out of repose and he straightened up, moving to kneel between Derek’s spread thighs as he took the phone from his lover’s hand. Stiles put it to his ear and waited.

“Stiles?” Noah asked, voice ragged with emotion.

“Hi, dad,” Stiles spoke softly.

“Fucking hell, Stiles, slavery? I looked it up. You weren’t incarcerated. You _volunteered._ Why the hell would you do that? Do you know what they _do_ to slaves?!”

“Yes,” Stiles replied, “I’ve been one for months and I went through three months of training before that, and the interview-slash-therapy before _that_.”

“Then what were you _thinking_?”

“That I needed something to keep me sober.”

“I’d have paid for you to go back to rehab!”

“I didn’t need rehab. I needed a foundation to live on,” Stiles replied, “I needed _you_ to be my platonic Dom or at least a dad, but you were too busy being the sheriff to have time for me. I found a solution. Complete servitude. No time or allowance for indulgence.”

“And that works for you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Stiles replied easily, using the term he’d had for his father for years when the man needed his dominant side soothed.

“Stiles,” He groaned, “This isn’t just a fad, son. This Hale person is going to _own you_. He’s going to decide what you do with your body and when. He’s can cover you in tattoos. Scar you. Fuck you until you bleed!”

“Only if I’m _very_ good,” Stiles sneered.

“Stiles!” He barked.

“Dad, you don’t get to Dom me anymore,” Stiles sighed, “I’m Derek’s now, and I’m happy. He’s not like other Doms. He’s considerate and kind.”

“That’s how Doms are _supposed_ to be!”

“Okay, then he is like other Doms and I’m an idiot for talking to the shitty ones before this, but now I’m his and I’m happy.”

“As a _slave?!”_

“Yes, as a slave!” Stiles replied in exasperation, “What’s wrong with being a slave?”

“Nothing, I just…” His father sighed heavily and sadness filled his voice, “It’s not what I wanted for my son.”

“It’s what your son wants for _himself_ ,” Stiles reminded him, “I wasn’t okay before. I am now.”

“You’re… really okay?”

“Yeah, dad. More than okay. Derek's amazing and I adore him and belonging to him.”

“Okay, I… I’ll look into this Peter Hale guy.”

“Thank you,” Stiles replied, “Sir.”

Stiles handed the phone back, not wanting an emotional moment when he wasn’t quite ready to forgive his father. Stiles slid back down into repose and Derek put the phone to his ear.

“Mr. Stilinski? No, he’s fine, he’s just in repose,” Derek stated, “He handed the phone back to me. You have my number? Excellent. I’ll make sure Stiles is safe in the mean time. I _am_ worried about my cousins, so please let me know what’s going on as soon as possible. There’s only so much I can do here.”

Derek ended the call and tapped his thigh. Stiles lifted his forehead from the floor and moved to rest his head on Derek’s knee. He ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my alpha,” Stiles replied, smiling up at Derek submissively as his alpha caressed his hair.

“We’re going to get through this,” Derek replied, “I’m so glad I have you.”

“This one is happy to be owned by his alpha,” Stiles replied easily.

Derek’s smile turned predatory and he sat back further in the chair, “Then perhaps you’d like to spend some time worshiping me.”

Stiles’ eyes turned hungry and Derek touched his fly briefly. Stiles tackled it hungrily, pulling Derek’s zip down and sliding his long fingers inside to stroke the fabric covering his soft flesh. Stiles worked him through the fabric as Derek hardened slowly, cupping his balls and stroking him to rigidity. Stiles pulled Derek through the slit in his boxers and leaned down to run his tongue from the base to the tip. Derek let out a slow breath and Stiles leaned in to really give him a taste of pleasure. Stiles had gotten by with blowjobs for a long time, which meant he was damn good at them. He had Derek’s eyes crossed in a heartbeat, sucking on his hot, hard flesh in a hard pulls while moving his tongue along his length until Derek was grunting out his release. Stiles loved the fact he could taste Derek without reserve. No condoms to separate them. He belonged to Derek and Derek’s pleasure belonged to Stiles. He lifted his head from Derek’s lap, and smiled up at him as he sat there panting and gaping at Stiles in shock.

“Fucking hell,” Derek groaned, “That was the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“Mm,” Stiles purred happily, “I’m good at them. They’re my specialty.”

Derek’s eyes clouded over and Stiles stilled in confusion. Derek had been excited by Stiles’ virginity. Perhaps knowing that he had sucked dick before was daunting? Many considered that a loss of virginity since it was a sex act. Perhaps Stiles was no longer as attractive to Derek?

“Come to think of it, that’s the _only_ blow job I’ve ever had besides the first time and I was so distracted then,” Derek muttered, “Can’t really count some of the stuff… huh…”

His fears seemed confirmed when Derek stood up, fixed his pants with a worried look on his face, stepped around Stiles’ supplicant form, and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob to glance back at Stiles.

“Make the bed, sort out the… stuff.”

Derek left while Stiles anxiously rubbed his hands together. Determined to redeem himself, Stiles quickly made the bed and then straightened out everything in the room. It quickly got neurotic as Stiles worried what he’d done wrong. He found a book and used it to make a cardboard square out of an old shoe box so he could get everything in the room at a 90 degree angle. He was just settling Derek’s loveseat perfectly when he heard footsteps and quickly rushed to get to the a good spot to resume his repose position facing the door.

Derek entered, paused and looked around himself in confusion, and then stepped fully inside and to the left. Stiles stiffened a bit when he realized that Talia was following him in. Had he fucked up so badly that Stiles was transferring him back?!

“Something’s… off?” Derek muttered, looking around himself in confusion.

Talia paced through his sitting room and paused at the loveseat while Stiles began to panic. Derek sat down in the chair and stroked down his spine anxiously. Talia reached beneath the seat and found Stiles’ barely concealed home made measuring tool.

“Hm,” Talia nodded, looking around herself, “It seems your slave is distressed. He’s put everything at perfect angles. It usually only means moving furniture an inch or so, so it will feel strange in your rooms for a bit because things aren’t where you left them.”

“See, this is what I meant, mom. I'm fucking this up! What did I do to cause that?” Derek asked, eyebrows drawing down.

“Probably something to do with body language or not a clear enough order,” She replied.

“Or not getting him off? Or getting him off earlier?” Derek huffed in irritation, “I don’t know what to do!”

“Follow your instincts, Derek,” She insisted gently, “If you’ve so far enjoyed and felt complete by sexually satisfying him, than there’s nothing wrong with doing so. He is a slave so he doesn’t get to deny you anything, but that doesn’t mean that you are required to bring him to orgasm. Nor are you expected _not_ to. It is entirely your choice.”

“It’s just…” Derek picked up a book and turned the pages, staring down at it as he thought through what he wanted to say, “None of the dominants I was ever with took the time to… do that with me.”

“Than they were negligent; you weren’t a slave, you were a partner. While they aren’t required to care for your pleasure, it’s certainly rude not to without discussing it. If they were uncomfortable doing so they at least should have made that clear and given you the option to sate yourself.”

“So I’m expected to with a sub, but not with a slave?”

“Communication is key,” She clarified, “Should you have a non-slave submissive someday you will find that they _do_ expect release at some point- either during or after a scene. A slave won’t expect it, but they will enjoy it.”

Talia walked across the room, took the book from Derek’s hand, and touched her fingers to his chin. Stiles lay prostrate, peering up anxiously and hopefully as Derek’s eyes rose to meet hers. For a moment he held his breath and was fairly certain Derek did as well. The nervous new dominant gave her a half smile that had Stiles’ belly fluttering.

“Trust your instincts, but temper them. If it seems cruel or especially violent than hold off until you talk to someone more experienced and get their advice and assistance. I’ve made a few calls. We’ll have a tutor for you tomorrow.”

“There’s… something you should know,” Derek spoke softly, stepping back and sitting partway on his desk, “When I was in middle school… uncle Peter… he gave me some pretty scary advice.”

“What kind of advice?”

“There was a girl I liked at school. She was a switch and I was still confused. I wanted to dominate her and I told him that. He told-“

“You told him you had dominant urges?” She asked sharply, “He never mentioned this to me.”

“Probably because of what he told me to do about it,” Derek replied softly, face twisting in distaste, “He told me that I should romance her but… in the worst way possible.”

“What sort of way?” She asked anxiously.

“One that involved no consent whatsoever,” Derek replied softly, “I terrified her, but I stopped before I physically harmed or raped her. It was wrong and I recognized it, but not nearly in time. I can’t undo that now, but I’m worried. What’s he teaching _his_ kids?”

“Derek, Peter was young back then, too,” Talia insisted, “He…”

“He was _twenty-two_ ,” Derek emphasized, “He knew better.”

Talia paused a moment, taking a slow breath, “I’ll talk to Peter.”

Talia moved to walk away from him and Derek stiffened in anger, “You don’t believe me.”

“I haven’t heard his side-“

“Why do you have to? _I’m telling you what happened.”_

“Because it doesn’t work that way, Derek. You can’t just accuse someone of something and they get punished without getting the chance to defend themselves. I would have thought your brief time in school for justice would have taught you that.”

Talia left and Derek deflated visibly. Stiles was staring at the floor again so he didn’t see the brief bit of motions around himself as Derek paced the room. Finally he paused in front of Stiles and let out a slow breath.

“You were right. She didn’t believe me. I need proof. Now Peter’s going to be alerted. Why the hell didn’t I just listen to you?”

“Because she’s your _mom_ ,” Stiles replied softly, “She’s supposed to have your back.”

“She never has!” Derek snapped angrily.

“No, she hasn’t.”

“So why the hell do I keep expecting her to?” Derek asked, voice tortured with all the hurt he’d endured.

“Because she _should_ , and you know it and that hurts,” Stiles replied, surprised at the pain in his voice.

Stiles’ eyes burned and a moment later he was choking on sobs, weeping into the carpet as if it were his own mother’s death he were facing again rather than Derek’s mother’s betrayal. In a way he’d felt betrayed when his mother had died. That hurt, of course, but it didn’t explain why Stiles was _weeping like a child_. Not until Derek knelt beside him on the floor and pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly and rocking him back and forth as Stiles clung to him. That was when it hit Stiles: he wasn’t crying for himself, he was crying for his Dominant so the man’s tenuous grip on his self control wouldn’t waiver. He was helping Derek mourn his relationship with his mother in the midst of his own awakening and how unstable it had made him. He was aiding Derek's control while letting him grieve.

_Well, look at that. Slavery really is right for me._

 


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles woke up to heat wrapped around his aching cock as Derek sucked him firmly. Stiles had been asleep so he hadn’t been in control of his body. He was fully aware that he’d been rolling his hips and keening in pleasure. They were both on their sides with Derek beneath the bed sheets, gripping Stiles’ ass with both hands while sucking on him. Stiles had been gagging him. Fuck! It felt agonizingly good, but also so very wrong. He had to get control of his hips and that meant calming himself down. Stiles took several deep breaths to calm himself and managed to stop thrusting his dick down his Dom’s throat. Derek moved his hand from Stiles’ ass and slid his hands beneath his balls to press on his taint. Stiles’ cock twitched and he choked on his excitement.

“May I come, alpha?” Stiles gasped.

“Mm,” Derek hummed appreciatively.

Stiles took that for an affirmative and spilled down his throat as Derek swallowed eagerly. Stiles panted and grunted through his release before simply going limp in relief. He’d been turned on while sucking Derek off the night before, but as Talia had stated he didn’t expect release. Had he not ended the night so emotionally he might have tossed off to relieve himself, but as it was he’d just been content to curl up in Derek’s arms as his precious favorite.

Derek crawled out of the bed and smiled at him proudly in the soft light filtering through his bedroom curtains. Stiles stretched happily and sighed in contentment. Then he noticed the light and anxiety shot through him. He’d slept in _again!_ Stiles was supposed to be working. Getting things done. Serving his alpha.

“What happened?” Derek frowned, “Didn’t you like-“

“This one should be serving _you_ ,” Stiles replied anxiously, “This one has slept in _again!”_

Stiles scrambled out of the bed and flailed, looking around himself frantically for something to do. His chest was tight, the room was too bright, and he was having trouble catching his breath. Derek was up in his face a moment later, pulling him back down from his panic attack with a soft growl and a firm grip on his upper arm.

“On your knees,” Derek ordered.

Stiles dropped and Derek pulled his morning wood free from his sleep pants.

“First you will satisfy _me_ ,” Derek stated firmly, “Then you will fetch me breakfast. After that you can start your cleaning tasks, helping with the household chores as needed. Deaton will direct you.”

As Derek spoke he tapped Stiles’ chin with his dick and pressed into his quickly opened mouth. Stiles eagerly leaned forward to gag himself on Derek’s cock, hands flying up to aid him in pleasuring his alpha. Derek’s orders refocused Stiles. He had one task at the moment: satisfy Derek. After that he’d have work to do that would help keep him focused. He’d be reporting to Deaton. He had an owner and a director. He would be focused all day and at the end he’d be Derek’s personal toy and snuggle pillow again. Stiles let himself relax and focus on Derek, bringing low moans from his throat and keeping him heated until he spilled down Stiles’ throat. Derek stepped back and wiped his thumb down Stiles’ chin.

“So, so good,” Derek breathed, “Wash up quickly. Dress. Get us both breakfast. Are you comfortable eating my food or do you want plain food?”

Stiles considered, “Plain. I… I’d like to have yours occasionally, though. Special occasions?”

“I like that idea,” Derek smiled softly.

Stiles smiled back, “Thank you, alpha.”

“We’ll get a schedule set for you today,” Derek promised, “I won’t let you fall apart.”

“Thank you, alpha,” Stiles replied with more sincerity.

“Go.”

Stiles hurried to begin his day and Derek stretched and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself.

“I’ll want anal tonight,” Derek stated plainly, ignoring Stiles’ unrestrained snicker at his plain speak, “So wash up nicely after dinner.”

“Yes, alpha.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Derek was relaxing in bed when Stiles returned with a tray and two meals. Stiles’ breakfast was porridge that looked to be without an ounce of brown sugar in it. It was as plain as the day was long and Derek frowned at it. He wanted Stiles to have the best of everything, but that wasn’t what the young man needed. He needed strict discipline and a basic lifestyle that left him struggling just enough for enjoyment to make Derek his focus. Derek understood. Stiles’ pleasure in life came from pleasing others, and if he didn’t focus on it he’d overindulge himself instead or have anxiety attacks. So his slave kneeled by the bedside while Derek ate, accepting bites of his own bland breakfast and smiling up at Derek lovingly. His lover was content and the more he basked the more right Derek felt. It wasn’t his job to decide what Stiles _should_ want, it was his job to give Stiles what he needed. Personal slaves were a bit different than corporate or family ones; Stiles was having trouble adjusting to the fact he was on Derek’s schedule instead of the house’s. At the moment Derek wasn’t at school and he usually did volunteer work rather than paid, so there was no reason to wake up until late morning. Derek was realizing he might actually have to get his shit together in order to take care of his slave!

It was a revelation that brought with it a lot of concerns. Derek had been floundering and depressed for a _long_ time. He also had to be worried about Peter and whoever had taken IL. The police had searched Peter’s rooms already, so IL wasn’t there but that still meant he either ran or was kidnapped. Judging by Scott’s actions he had probably ran, but Derek wasn’t about to discredit any evil plots at this point. What if Scott had been encouraged by Peter to lay hands on IL?

Derek considered his options as he headed to the garage to take a look at his car. He was officially signed up for classes but he wasn’t due to start them for another week. He had too much time on his hands and that meant tinkering, but he’d already rebuilt the engine to his old Camero so there wasn’t much to do beyond check the oil. A throat cleared behind him and Derek came out from under the hood and frowned at his eldest sister.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I came home for a late lunch,” She replied, “I see you like your new career choice.”

“I always have,” Derek replied, glancing around the garage, “Does your car need any work?”

“Not that you can get done in ten minutes,” She scoffed.

“But it does need work,” He replied.

“You can take it apart tonight,” She sighed, “The light is on.”

“Which one?”

“Check engine.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno, on and off for a month?”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and turned back to what he was doing.

“You doing okay?” She asked again, bringing him back out of his solitude.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Better, actually.”

“Mom was asking me about Peter.”

“Did you have anything to tell her about Peter?” Derek asked, a bit of protectiveness curling in his belly.

“Only that he’s generally creepy and when I was little I was afraid of him,” She sighed.

“Why?” Derek demanded instantly.

“Geez, you sound like mom,” Laura laughed nervously, chin inching to the side in automatic submission, “Look at that? You see that? You made me dip, Mr. Weak-Ass-Dom.”

Derek fought back his smile, “Seriously, though? Why?”

“He just seemed to lurk a lot,” She replied with a frown, “I don’t remember anything shady happening, but I had this whole thing where I thought up elaborate ways to avoid him.”

“Living in the same house together, that must have been difficult?”

“Not really,” Laura laughed, “I just used the old slave passages.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, “What slave passages?”

“The ones in the walls,” She replied, “They connect most of the closets in the house, all the halls, and the kitchens. The only places not connected are Peter’s rooms because they were built later and the dining room because they’re supposed to be more present there or something.”

“I’ve seen the slaves walk the hallways,” Derek frowned.

“Yeah, they don’t use them,” Laura replied, “Some of them were getting nasty so I guess Deaton decided not to or something. I don’t know.”

“Nasty?”

“Yeah, FYI, we have mice.”

“Mice,” Derek grimaced.

“I told mom when we were little. She said every house has mice at one point or another and got a cat to catch them. I don’t know if it worked or not because I was so grossed out that I totally stopped using them. Instead I asked mom for more Dom lessons and next time he came up to me being all creepy I told him to fuck off.”

“Fuck off?” Derek laughed, “Didn’t you get in trouble?”

“No, silly,” Laura smirked, “Dom’s rule the world, remember? Peter’s just a switch. He has to listen to me.”

Laura walked back to her car with her lunch in her hand and drove away while Derek’s brain turned circles. He returned to his rooms to find Stiles wasn’t present; he was probably off doing chores under Deaton’s orders. Derek walked into the closet and slid Stiles’ cage out to give himself room to work. He ran his hands along the edges of the closet wall looking for a crack but didn’t see anything. It didn’t help that there was wallpaper that was probably newer than the passages. Derek frowned and began sliding his hands out farther along. It was an instant memory of the time he’d had to do repetitive work as part of submissive training. Picking up every grain of rice and putting it into a jar only to start again if he didn’t do it fast enough. He’d hated it, but when Stiles needed a focus the first thing he did was grab pot of dirt and have him do something similar. It helped him calm down, focus his mind, give him a…

Derek’s fingers paused. There was a slight indent under the paper in the shape of a rectangle, just the size of a hand grip. Derek didn’t hesitate to push through the paper where the cold metal of a latch met his finger tips. Derek pulled the latch back and the material tore as he pulled a door open. It was about the size of a locker door and the entrance was dusty, web covered, and pitch black. No wonder the slaves were kept on a sparse diet. If they gained too much mass they’d never be able to fit through the door let alone the passage!

Derek left to get a flashlight and checked out the entryway. Mouse droppings littered the floor. They probably lived in the passages and snuck into the rooms to eat the crumbs they inevitably left. Derek turned sideways but his pecks stopped him from being able to enter more than a few inches without scraping himself up.

A snicker made Derek sigh in frustration. He turned his head to find his slave face down on the floor trying not to laugh at him.

“I _will_ beat your ass,” Derek told him firmly.

“Promises, Promises.”

“Kneel,” Derek sighed even though Stiles was already doing so. It was his signal for Stiles to stop sassing and start obeying.

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles replied, kneeling up instead and giving Derek’s ankles the focused stare that showed he was on board.

Derek pulled his shoulder out of the tiny entrance, “Did you know about these?”

“Blueprints of the house show them so we’re aware, but this one was told they are unmaintained and unusuable.”

“What are the odds that missing slave is in there?”

“He’d have come back by now if he were in there,” Stiles replied.

“Why?”

“Because he’s in love with Scott and I passed word along that Scott’s in trouble. He’ll be coming back from wherever he is as soon as word gets to him.”

Derek paused, something niggling at the back of his mind, “Unless he’s hurt. Do the other slaves know where he is?”

“They didn’t say. This one is not trusted due to the nature of this one’s slave agreement with Alpha.”

“Hm,” Derek nodded, “Okay. I want you to change into your lawn maintenance uniform, get a flashlight, and squeeze in here. Search all the passages. And wear a mask. There’s mouse shit in there and I hear breathing that in can mess you up.”

“This one is not through with-“

“I’ll tell Deaton I’ve waylaid you,” Derek stated.

“I meant taking care of _you_.”

“This is more important,” Derek replied, “After you wash up- and I mean _really_ well _-_ we can spend some time together. I’m still going over some things anyway.”

Derek left Stiles to it and headed down to his mother’s study to continue his research. He had a meeting that afternoon with a tutor to teach him how to be a proper Dom. He knew the basics and had already spoken to him over the phone about what he was aware of, so they were skipping consent and dating techniques to go straight to the sexual aspects. He was going to be learning on Stiles, so that meant they had to be ready in time. He wanted to make learning a priority, but he really was concerned that the missing slave was still in their house.

Derek frowned at the time but kept on studying the book in front of him.

_The Dom’s relationship to their sub must be a relationship built on sacrifice. A healthy relationship allows both to care for the other. An equal give and take can only be established when both parties know that they will care for each other without reservation. The Dominant partner must be ready to make sure that their partner is healthy before and after a scene, caring for any physical needs they have before seeing to their own D/s and sexual wants. Similarly, the submissive must make sure that their Dominant’s urges are fulfilled before indulging by relaxing or treating themselves._

Derek nodded. It made good sense, but it didn’t help him with a scene. He needed to know how hard to hit, what urges were wrong vs which were right. He needed to know how to _not_ harm his beloved sub. He needed to know how to _never ever_ become a Kate.

“Derek!” Deaton burst into the sitting room with eyes wide, “I’m so sorry, sir, but there’s an emergency!”

Derek felt a moment of panic and the urge to ask him why he was coming to _Derek_ before he recalled… most of the family was out. Derek was the only Dominant in the whole building! Instead of going to Peter, Deaton was going to _Derek_ for direction.

“What kind of emergency?” Derek asked, standing quickly.

“There is a slave trapped in the wall in the old tunnels-“

“Stiles!” Derek pushed past him and headed for his rooms, but Deaton cut him off.

“He’s down here, now,” Deaton called.

Derek hurried to follow Deaton to the kitchen area where a door was partway open behind the fridge. Stiles was peering out and Derek reached in to touch his cheek.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, but IL is,” Stiles replied anxiously, “He’s _really_ sick.”

“He’s been hanging out in a hole,” Derek replied, “He could have a ton of infections. Is he conscious?”

“Yeah, but barely,” Stiles worried, “Is it the fridge blocking this exit?”

“Yes, he must have gotten in another way and was getting food handed to him this way,” Derek replied, “Seeing as how this has been carefully cut away. Stiles, I’m going to move the fridge and Deaton’s calling an ambulance, okay?”

“Okay. I’m ready,” Stiles replied.

Derek shifted the fridge while Deaton called 911. He heard Deaton listing the police he’d spoken to during the previous interview and expressing confusion over their lack of availability. Derek had the fridge unplugged and moved and Stiles pushed the door all the way open. It was just as narrow as the one in his door, meaning only a slender person turned sideways could fit through. Stiles did so easily, but a glance back inside showed Isaac lying on the ground on a pile of stolen blankets. The passage widened inside, so apparently Stiles hadn’t been sliding sideways the whole way, and Isaac had obviously cleaned, but he was still lying in a narrow area full of possible airborn toxins.

“You okay to go back in there?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, just needed some air,” Stiles replied, slipping his mask back on and heading in.

“Good,” Derek agreed, “You take his shoulders and I’ll grab his ankles. We’ll get him out as carefully as we can.”

Stiles obeyed easily and they soon had Isaac laying on the floor of the kitchen. He smelled like a mouse nest and so did Stiles. Derek shuddered in fear of what he could have or be carrying. Deaton dropped to the floor to check his reactions and began relaying his condition to the person on the phone.

“Stiles, strip off those clothes and get them in a trash bag,” Derek ordered, indicating Stiles’ own clothes, “Do the same for Isaac’s, but keep the mask on until you’re done. Then I want you upstairs and showering. Hot water. Lots of soap.”

“He had a sort of… toilet further in. Cat litter to keep it from stinking, but it was pretty obvious that he’d stopped being able to take care of it or himself a bit ago. It was overflowing with the wet kind.”

“Pee or…”

“Yeah, the _other_ wet kind.”

“So he’s definitely sick and not just in subfrenzy or something,” Derek muttered.

Stiles pealed back his clothes to find he’d layered on several pairs of underwear to make a diaper and soiled them. Quite possibly he was trying to wait until nightfall to leave his little hideaway and wash, but Derek thought he might also have realized that he was too ill to make it anywhere. He wondered if he’d knocked and called for help but not been heard.

“Hey, there,” Derek soothed, reaching for him despite the risk of illness, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.”

IL’s eyes fluttered open and he gave Derek a blank look before closing them again. Deaton whispered that he was going to wait at the door for the ambulance. Stiles finished bagging up the clothes- one for his and one for IL's- and then hurried away in just a dust mask. Derek found a few kitchen towels to make Isaac more comfortable. He had his head propped and was wiping up some of the mess on his groin and ass when the ambulance crew came in.

“We’ll take over, submissive,” One ordered.

“Dominant!” Derek spat out angrily, and then tempered himself when they paused in alarm, “I’m a Dominant, I just didn’t figure that mattered in an emergency so I was trying to make sure he wasn’t any more cold than he already was. His clothes were covered in mouse feces so I had my slave remove and bag them. He’s not well, obviously.”

“Probably norovirus or hantavirus,” The medical tech replied, dropping down beside him to check for a pulse, “We’ll get him to the hospital and take good care of him.”

Derek stepped away, going to the sink in a hurry to wash up. Deaton turned on the water for him and he held his hands under until it was hot enough to burn. Deaton poured soap on his hands and he scrubbed up quickly. By the time he turned around again they had IL on a gurney and were about to wheel him out. He looked awful.

“You have my family’s contact information?” He asked.

“We don’t, but it will be with his number,” The tech replied, indicating IL’s tattoo, “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you.”

Derek headed upstairs to find Stiles just leaving his shower. He dropped down to the floor when Derek stepped in.

“Bathe me,” Derek ordered, “Our trainer will be here so-“

“May I speak?”

“Yes?”

“As the only Dominant in the building you should notify both your mother and the police of what just transpired.”

“Deaton already tried to reach the police who were in charge… who were your _dad’s_ men, weren’t they?” Derek realized.

“Yes.”

“So they were really only looking for you,” Derek sighed, “Okay. I’ll call the station and see if they can’t find the file or whatever.”

“Yes, alpha, but a shower first?”

“A quick one, yes,” Derek replied, “I’ll give it to myself since we apparently have less time and I believe you were meant to have your system cleaned out if possible?”

“Already done, Alpha. I paused mid shower to make sure I had time to wash afterwards as well.”

“Good idea,” Derek agreed, “Then pick out our clothes for us.”

“Yes, alpha.”

Derek washed and then let Stiles dress him while he spoke on the phone to his mother. She was impressed he’d figured out where the slave was hiding and glad he’d had Stiles find him. She also told him she’d handle the call to the police, so with that anxiety off his shoulders Derek sat down in relief to have Stiles serve him for a bit. He liked watching Stiles obey. It relaxed him and asserted his Dominant status. He had Stiles do silly things like fetch him odds and ends, and then put them all back. He was just considering a jar of rice when the service phone rang. Stiles fetched it and Derek told Deaton he’d be right down to receive the tutor.

Derek snapped his fingers and tapped his thigh, the signal for Stiles to follow him. He headed out and the slave hurried behind him at the proper distance. When they arrived the man who met him was a submissive with a Dominant standing off behind him. This was the norm. The subs taught the Doms and the Doms taught the subs. In this way no stereotypes were passed down. The Doms learned how to care for subs from a submissive and vice versa. For the extent of his time as Derek’s tutor, this submissive would be the one in power. He was a teacher and his title earned him the authority over Derek. His Dom was present but aloof in order to allow his submissive to work without being hampered. It might not even be _his_ Dom, but a person standing in as a coworker and protector.

“Good afternoon Dominant Derek, I am submissive Paul. I’m here to tutor you.”

“Good afternoon,” Derek replied, accepting his limp handshake with a firmer one of his own, “I’m glad you’re here, I could really use the guidance. This is MS-1245, my slave. I played with him a bit last night, but we were very careful. I don’t want to do anything to hurt him… well, in a negative way.”

The submissive smiled broadly, “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll talk a bit on scenes as soon as we finish the paper portion.”

“Paperwork?” Derek asked.

“Would you mind if your slave stood in as a liberated submissive for the purposes of your tutelage? I was told a submissive would be provided, but I didn’t realize he was a slave.”

“Sure, but what paperwork?”

“Stops forms, of course,” The submissive replied, adjusting his glasses.

Derek felt a bit giddy. Stops forms were something he had fantasized about filling out with a submissive and now he was _going to do it!_

“Interesting,” Paul stated, cocking his head to one side, “I’ve never seen someone _eager_ to learn how to fill out Stops forms before.”

“I’ve never done it from this end,” Derek replied, snapping his fingers and touching his chest.

Stiles bolted forward to press against Derek’s side, plastering himself against his master and laying his head on his shoulder. Derek petted his hair gently and Paul smiled softly at the submissive’s behavior.

“He’s gorgeous,” Paul stated.

“Yes, he is,” Derek turned his head to brush his lips against Stiles’ head, “We can work in my sitting room if that’s alright?”

“Certainly.”

“Deaton, I believe my mother had a bench for us?” Derek asked.

“I’m having a slave place it in your room as we speak,” Deaton stated, “I didn’t want it in the way until it was needed.”

“Excellent, thank you.”

Derek tapped Stiles’ shoulder once and he immediately fell back. When Derek turned to head up the steps towards his rooms again Stiles plastered himself to the nearest wall, turned his head, and shut his eyes. He was ‘being the wall’, and would wait for them all to pass before following behind at a respectful distance. They arrived in Derek’s room and his stomach lurched at the sight of the bench on his floor. He fought the anxiety down. He wasn’t going to be strapped to it… helpless… unable to safeword… terrified for his life…

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice reached him and his eyes dropped to meet those of his slave. Stiles had stepped forward to make sure Derek was okay, and a glance around showed him that the men in the room with him looked worried.

“I’m fine,” Derek insisted, and gestured to the bench, “Sit on it.”

Stiles moved quickly to obey, sitting down and smiling down at his feet as he kicked them back and forth. The picture of innocent hopefulness at the prospect of a scene with his Alpha. Derek walked up to him and ran his fingers through his hair. Seeing Stiles on it comforted him and brought him back to the present.

“You’d love to be tied up on this, wouldn’t you?” Derek asked.

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles replied quickly.

“Are you well, Sir?” Paul asked in concern.

“Yes,” Derek replied, “Stiles, explain.”

Stiles’ eyes rose to Derek’s, reading his expression, and Paul gasped in surprise at the breech of protocol. Since it was what Derek had wanted he only raised his eyebrows to communicate with him.

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles replied, “Dominant Derek was placed in the unfortunate situation of having to behave as a submissive. As such he was forced to submit many times to those who- due to his lack of instincts- he was not aware of being unhealthy until it was too late.”

“Is this equipment too upsetting for your Dominant?” Paul asked with real concern in his voice.

Stiles’ eyes dropped once more, “Most equipment will likely be triggery for my Alpha. We will have to find a way to build good memories on them. This one would very much like to be tied to this if Alpha is willing?”

“Very willing,” Derek replied, stroking through his hair again, “Explain our relationship as well.”

“Alpha allows this one to break protocol in order to aid our relationships while he learns how to Dominate in healthy ways.”

“And… how has this worked so far?” Paul asked.

Stiles wriggled and flushed with desire, “ _Very_ well.”

Derek snorted, “Hussy.”

“Only for you, Alpha,” Stiles purred.

“Very well,” Paul stated, “Is it… is this something you prefer? To speak through your slave?”

Stiles glanced up, looked a bit surprised, and then smiled warmly as his eyes dropped again, “Yes.”

“Very well,” Paul replied, “Dominants have different types of Domination that interest them. This one may be hard to enact outside of your home. I suggest that your Dom has you practice introducing yourself as his mouthpiece. Phrases such as-“

Derek watched as Paul submissively went through several lines of introduction and had Stiles repeat them. His slave stood up and easily went through the actions.

“There are times when he will need to express your emotions as well. I have a feeling this particular slave is going to be good at that, the only thing you’ll have to consider is whether or not Dominants will ask to punish him for your ‘words’,” Paul pointed out, leaving Derek to frown irritably, “You may need to work on that in professional settings more than public ones. A restaurant, for example, shouldn’t be difficult to navigate, but your workplace may be an issue if you’re handling a sensitive situation. A script might need to be provided.”

Derek nodded and Stiles replied needlessly, “Understood.”

“Very well, then,” Paul stated, “In order to continue we will need two pieces of lined paper, pens, and hard surfaces to work on.”

Stiles jumped down to head over to the desk, fetching two tablets of paper, two pens, and then bending over the spanking bench to use the surface as a desk. He placed the other tablet on his back and Derek stepped up behind him to begin writing.

“First your names, the date, and this title: Stops Form.”

Derek wrote across the paper and Stiles did as well, silent and calm as he moved across the sheet.

“Obviously a slave wouldn’t require a Stops Form,” Paul stated, “But we’re going for practice here and many Dominants like to know what their personal slaves likes and dislikes are, just for reference. It can make private slave life not only more bearable for the slave- thus extending their time with the Dominant- but more exciting for the Dom when the slave reacts favorably during a scene. First come Hard Stops. Please ask any questions you would like.”

Derek had none, but Stiles glanced over his shoulder at him just in case and Derek gave him a quick head shake. Stiles resumed being Derek’s desk and Derek… froze. He’d never really been given the option to say no to something, and certainly not from this perspective. What on earth would a sub or slave possibly do that Derek would dislike?

“How…” Derek started, and then as usual got tongue-tied. He never had been good at classroom participation.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at him and chose to answer the unspoken question for him, “You’ll want to put down basically the same thing. If you don’t want to piss on me, put watersports. Make sense?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Derek replied, relieved that Stiles knew what to put from there on.

Derek wrote until he ran out of ideas and then glanced up at Stiles’ work. He’d written a total of three things: watersports, feces, and CBT. Derek wasn’t even sure what CBT was.

“Any questions?” Paul reiterated.

“What’s CBT?” Derek wondered.

“Cock and Ball Torture,” Paul replied, “Do you require-“

“No,” Derek cut him off quickly and added CBT to his own list of hard stops.

“Excellent. Now. Soft stops will be what you dislike doing but are not disgusted, triggered, or firmly opposed to. Please make a list of soft stops.”

Derek glanced at his page. His hard stops were watersports, feces, cupping, electrocution, strangulation, and CBT. They were all honestly things he couldn’t stand having done to himself and wasn’t sure how to approach what he would dislike doing to Stiles. Permanent harm, obviously, but the whole point of the training was to make sure he never did that in the first place, but Derek wasn't sure what his interests were. Derek also worried he was boring and wanted to know what Stiles’ kinks were ASAP since his hard stops list hadn’t included most of Derek’s hard stops. He wouldn’t know until the slave wrote or he asked, so he moved on and began his list of soft stops. He made himself not look up at Stiles’ list, but noted that he seemed to be writing for a longer period of time. Stiles was still through before Derek was, but he made himself look his own over before glancing at Stiles’ list.

Edging  
Needles  
Piercing  
Knife Play  
Enemas  
Humiliation  
Tickling

Derek decided his list wasn’t overly embarrassing, although still confused with a subs list, and glanced up at Stiles’ list. He immediately brought his hand down on his ass sharply.

“Stiles! Take this seriously!”

“I did!”

Stiles had written two words: Daddy and Police.

“That looks more like a cry for help than a soft stops list!”

“Oh, it’s not!” Stiles stated quickly, “Swear it’s not, it’s just my dad’s a cop and I have daddy issues so the whole… cop costumes and call you daddy thing is super unattractive to me.”

“Why did you take so long to write that?” Derek sighed.

“I was kind of hesitating,” Stiles replied, “I’m a slave. I don’t get stops. I’ve kind of put them out of my mind, you know?”

“Fine, just… fine. I’m fine with those anyway,” Derek replied, “Ah… I’m still writing from the perspective of a submissive. I’ve never _done_ anything to anyone. This is just what I found distasteful on me. You mentioned revising. I may need to rewrite this in a matter of days.”

“That’s fine,” Paul stated, voice amused, “Now your kinks.”

Derek felt himself flush from head to toe. His _kinks!_ Everything he wanted to do to Stiles went rushing through his mind and he had to step back to adjust himself in his pants. He took a deep breath, hoped that Paul didn’t think he was some kind of pervert, and began to write.

He wanted everything. Absolutely everything. He wanted bondage. Impact. Role play. He wanted some basic, sort of amateur medical play in the form of caring for each other when sick. He wanted to leave marks all over Stiles’ body and then pamper him afterwards. Was aftercare a kink? Derek put that down, too. He wanted Stiles to be his furniture regularly. He wanted to dress him. Decorate him. Show him off. He wanted Stiles to take dancing lessons and put on shows for him in private _and_ public.

“Dominant Derek?” Paul asked, making Derek jump, “Did you need help?”

Derek frowned at his page. He’d written part of a list and then started just staring at his paper while the pen bled onto it as he pressed it into the sheet.

“I think he needs more pages,” Stiles giggled.

“I want _everything_ ,” Derek breathed.

“Focus on your immediate desires,” Paul advised, “What do you want to do regularly? The things that you fantasize about?”

Derek shook his head, frowning in frustration as he realized this was far more difficult for him. He didn’t know _what_ he liked. He knew that he’d hated most of what was done for him, but he didn’t know what he found particularly exciting.

“Can we skip this part?” Stiles asked softly, “The stops are the more important aspect.”

“Sure,” Paul agreed, “These are meant to be redone regularly anyway. Please swap and discuss.”

Stiles passed his back and Derek took it eagerly, reading down the portion he hadn’t read yet. Stiles’ list was basic. He had put three stars down next to cleaning and care. He had bondage and impact play down, which excited and relieved Derek. He also had knife play down but with a question mark behind it. He also had cooking and feeding.

“You want to feed me?” Derek asked.

“More like, make sure your food is healthy, but I’m not opposed to reversing the thing where I eat at your feet to me feeding you in bed or something. It’s kind of a kink of mine.”

“Mm,” Derek nodded and petted down Stiles’ spine, “I like that idea. You’re quite the mother hen.”

“Mm, add mother to my hard stops list?”

Derek did so and declined asking him about it, “So you want to take care of me.”

“Very much so.”

“Good,” Derek replied, “I want to care for you, too.”

“Am I remiss in assuming that your relationship is more of a personal slave nature than a house slave?” Paul asked.

“That’s correct,” Stiles replied, “I started as a house slave, but Derek’s mother gave me to him when he expressed interest.”

“Understandable. Now, this is all practice. As an official slave Stiles’ contract most likely states that he has no hard stops besides life threatening situations, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Stiles replied.

“Very well,” Paul stated, “Knowing his interests can’t hurt, and there may be a time when Stiles chooses to formally end his slave contract and become a free submissive again. This will facilitate your relationship’s changes should you choose to maintain one.”

Derek nodded and Stiles stayed silent, waiting for more training to ensue.

“Now,” Paul continued, opening up the bag he’d brought with him, “It is my understanding the biggest gap in your education is experience in scenes, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Derek muttered, tapping Stiles’ back to get him to elaborate.

“More specifically safety in scenes,” Stiles stated, “With his history he is concerned about not knowing when to hold back and when to go all out.”

“A valid concern for any Dominant,” Paul replied, “I am generally alarmed by those who never ask that question. It means they don’t consider the safety and happiness of their submissives important or even _possible._ We’ll go over arm strength first. You seem to work out a lot? Well, you probably have a harder swing than most Dominants I work with. You’ll have to temper that. The best way is by starting small. Warm ups, we call them. The order is this: feathers, hands, floggers, crops and paddles, switches, and canes. Obviously this is impact play only. For stuff like e-stim there are actual settings on the wands that tell you how much electricity you’re applying and a safe cap to avoid harm along with instructions like not to apply it to the chest and to remove metal piercings.”

“So e-stim would be a safe form of pain play for now?” Derek asked, not sure if he could manage any form of electrocution.

“It would,” He nodded, “Just until you find your groove. Since Stiles can’t object there’s no concern with him not preferring it and you shouldn’t worry at this point if _every_ scene gets him or you into your headspace. Sometimes that just doesn’t happen.”

“So far it’s easy as hell,” Derek laughed, “Stiles just needs a firm voice to topple into his headspace and this is all so new to me. He obeys and I float.”

“That will probably lessen,” Paul replied as he set out a few toys on the fold out table attached to the bench, “As you adjust to the experience and the newness wears off you’ll each have more trouble getting into your headspace. That’s okay. It’s normal. Every couple has a cooling down period. That’s the point when you decide if you want to keep him as a slave or not; or in a non-slave relationship, the point when you decide if the relationship is a lasting one or if the thrill of sex and scenes was all you had. You might even get another partner in addition to MS-1245 who can provide you with a different type of relationship.”

Derek nodded but didn’t really think he’d be dating again. If he and Stiles ended things he’d probably get another slave just based on the fact they were an intense interest of his. Derek considered that and wrote slave down as a kink. Paul smiled a bit and slipped both their papers away from him, apparently wanting his attention elsewhere. Derek frowned but didn’t let his irritation go further. This was training; Paul was in charge even if he was a sub.

“So, we’ll start with feathers. They aren’t just used to tickle. They can also be used to stroke and tease your partner, particularly when blindfolded. They’re also a great soother.”

“Soother? For aftercare?” Derek asked in confusion, blushing at his lack of knowledge.

“For soothing between impacts. One of the best ways to excite a sub isn’t to beat them until the flesh goes numb and they’re too overstimulated to even process more sensations. It’s to combine pain with a soothing caress of hand or toy. That caress re-awakens the nerves, gets them out of the pain zone, and often adds pleasure to the mix. I personally prefer a 5-1 ratio. Five hits, one caress over the abused flesh. It’s very effective and does wonders for the speed at which I head into subspace. Every masochist is different, so communication is key to finding the place where your partner plateaus and stops enjoying pain or requires a lighter touch to better enjoy yours.”

“That makes sense,” Derek nodded, “Last night we tried a light scene to help me relax. I wasn’t sure how far to go so after a few slaps I touched the skin to make sure it wasn’t too damaged and he arched like a cat. I kept it up after that.”

“You have good instincts,” Paul nodded, “Let’s try a few toys on your submissive. Canes can’t be safely used on the upper body, so we need his legs bare. I’ll have to ask him to either put on shorts or be in his boxers. That way we can see what’s going on.”

“Strip, my favorite,” Derek stated, stepping back to give him room to move.

Stiles slid off the kneeling pads on the spanking bench and quickly removed his clothes, pausing at his underwear. Derek grunted in negation and he left them on. Stiles folded his clothes as he went and placed them out of the way on Derek’s desk. He headed back to the desk without a word and Paul glanced at Derek in surprise.

“What?” Derek asked, “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing at all, Dominant,” Paul replied quickly, “I’m just surprised that you didn’t feel the need to order each step of the process. Many prefer to dictate when and where their submissive lies when starting a scene.”

Derek immediately felt humiliated. This was where he was clearly a weak Dom. He didn’t assert himself enough! Despite having his back to Derek, Stiles instantly recognized his anxiety and practically raced to his feet, dropping to his knees and gripping his hand.

“This one knows what you need and obeys without orders. This one is also light and Alpha is strong. He can pick this one up and move him as needed.”

Paul nodded, “You two do seem to have communication down pat. It’s not necessary to order their every move. I was only surprised because most unconfident Dominants need to micromanage. You obviously don’t and that’s fine.”

Derek studied him for a moment and decided, “If I dislike it I’ll move him. I like manhandling him and I don’t need to micromanage him.”

“Excellent,” The man nodded, “You really _do_ have excellent instincts, Dominant. Let’s see what we like, shall we?”

Derek ran his hands over Stiles’ body, enjoying the feel of his beautiful slave along with the gorgeous moles dotting his body. He loved them and paused to run his thumb over one a few times. Then he stepped back and studied the toys on display. A feathered toy on a long handle, a standard riding crop, a plastic switch that was narrow enough to break skin with enough force, a flat paddle, and leaning against the side was a bamboo cane. Derek recalled Paul’s order of operation and ran the feather down Stiles’ spine. He broke out into a giggle fit and Derek laughed lightly at the sound of his amusement.

“A bit more firmly and slowly if you want to avoid tickling,” Paul advised, his tone amused.

Derek slid the toy up this time and Stiles hissed and arched upwards, his hips lifting off the bench. Derek smirked and put it aside instantly in order to bring his hand sharply down on each cheek in quick succession. Stiles gasped and jumped and Derek grinned, but before he could continue Paul spoke up again.

“I’m sure MS-1245 can handle more than that, so let’s jump to the toys you want to use. I want to leave here knowing you aren’t worried about using them.”

The flogger was a bundle of suede strips bound together and attached to a glass handle. The handle looked like it could be used for all sorts of filthy activities as well, but for the moment he brought the flogger down on his ass in a quick strike. Stiles arched into it and hummed in appreciation. Since that could also be used on his upper torso, Derek brought it down on his back in several quick strikes, trying out different angles and handholds. He could tell the flogger would be a personal favorite.

Derek picked up the paddle and hefted it. It was surprisingly heavy and made of very solid rubber in one complete piece.

“This feels like it could really hurt someone,” Derek frowned.

“It’s possible to, but only with great effort,” Paul replied, “Never hit someone in the spine, ribs, joints, or skull with a blunt force toy. This is best on the bottom, thighs, calves, and bottoms of the feet.”

Derek’s interest peaked and he stepped back to bring it down on the bottom of Stiles’ foot with the loud, deep slap. He was shocked to hear Stiles moan hungrily. He’d claimed not to be a huge masochist, but apparently he enjoyed a strike to his feet. They were both learning new things about themselves and each other. Derek repeated it on the other foot, enjoying the evening out, and then reached for the next.

The riding crop was next and Derek felt a thrill just picking it up. This was the toy most people started off fantasizing about as the simple, sleek design was easy to fit into most romance novels and pornos. It was a sex symbol and depending on size and material could be used multiple ways.

“Ribs?” Derek asked.

“Safe on all body parts as long as you moderate your strength. Depending on the thickness and shape of a riding crop it can cut skin and with enough force anything can break ribs. If you’re unsure of a toy, strike yourself first. Use your calf so you can get a proper arch.”

Derek didn’t really want to hit himself. He was frankly concerned that he’d panic after feeling it hit himself, but it was his arm and his control. He had to take the risk in order to make sure he was protecting Stiles from harm. Derek rolled up a pant leg, raised his arm and hit his own leg at medium strength. It hurt like hell and he cursed, hissed in pain, and watched a red welt blossom on his leg. Paul whistled and Stiles turned around in alarm to see if he was hurt. Derek didn’t like Stiles breaking pose so he pushed him back down with an irritated growl. Stiles babbled an apology and went limp on the spanking bench while Paul studied Derek’s leg.

“Full strength?” Paul asked.

“No.”

“Avoid ribs with a full strength strike at all cost. With an arm like that you’ll likely break skin with thinner crops, and ribs are a definite concern.”

Derek nodded, and brought the crop down on Stiles’ back with a lighter strike than he’d given himself. Stiles yelped and breathed fast through the pain before relaxing again. Derek gave him a soft strike, more of a tease, and he arched into it. The next was a hard strike on his thigh, as hard as he could manage, and Stiles outright screamed. Derek was around the bench in an instant, hand on his chin to study his face and determine how badly he’d taken it. Stiles smiled at him softly despite the tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Tell me if that was awful for you,” Derek ordered.

“It hurt, but with a build up I could take several. I may not enjoy pain outright, but I don’t hate it. I can tolerate it for your enjoyment.”

“I enjoy _you_ enjoying it.”

“A warm up might get me there. I enjoy pain more than I thought I did with you.”

Derek nodded, pressed a kiss to his lips, dried his cheeks, and walked back around. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before forcing himself to look at Stiles’ thigh. A bright red welt was on his thigh, the center reddened to the point of brush burn. It would be a savage bruise. Derek wanted to stop right there, but he knew they had more to do so he re-centered himself before picking up the next toy. After all, marking Stiles up was part of the point.

A switch. Stiles hadn’t been against cutting toys, and the switch could be categorized as one. Derek studied the mark that had brought a scream from his beloved as he thought about the switch, and then ran his hands over it. Stiles hissed in pleasure and arched into his hand. The mark was hot to the touch, but Stiles’ movements showed that he was unharmed. Derek pressed a kiss to the mark and then gave his own leg a careful tap with the switch. It stung, but not overly much. He struck harder and it sent fire up his leg.

“The switch is a delicate toy,” Paul intervened, “It isn’t meant to be used as a blunt force toy, more like a paintbrush. Use sharp strikes to leave decorative marks with a satisfying sting. I’ve seen skilled Dominants leave beautiful patterns on the bodies of their subs using a switch. It can cut as well with enough force, but that strength shouldn’t be levied on the ribs.”

Derek nodded and gave Stiles’ unmarked thigh a few light strikes. He wriggled in obvious enjoyment and moaned deeply as Derek soothed his strikes with the feather toy. Derek shook his head in amusement at Stiles’ eager movements and then struck sharply over his right ass cheek. Stiles gasped loudly, but at this point his ass had been warmed up nicely and he responded favorably. Derek glanced beneath his underwear to check the strength and found a red line. He tried a lower snap on his back to the right of his spine and Stiles entire body jerked upwards before dropping again. He let out a soft ‘oh’ as if he’d learned something new and Derek’s desire began to smolder. He was becoming less awkward in front of Paul and Stiles’ reactions were speaking to him as he became more sure of himself. Derek adjusted himself in his pants and hesitantly put the switch down.

Derek hesitated to pick up the cane and once it was in his hand his desire waned.

“Dominant,” Paul spoke softly, “You are not required to use everything I put out. Not every toy will be enjoyable to you.”

Derek quickly put it back. He couldn’t imagine hitting his beautiful sub with something that could break bones. In his filthiest fantasies perhaps, but never outside of them. Derek had officially found his boundary. He knew now how hard and with what, and he was certain what he would never utilize. Perhaps the cane would be a punishment for Stiles since ‘time outs’ might be mentally harmful for him. It was a good place to be for a new Dominant and Derek felt as if weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“This is the best place to stop for now,” Paul stated, “Let’s move on to aftercare. Obviously since MS-1245 is a slave he does not require aftercare, but I want you to have a grasp of the basics. What is your first instinct when it comes to soothing MS-1245?”

“To wash him,” Derek replied instantly, thinking of the slight breaks in his skin. He wanted to wash them with a warm rag both to clean them and to see Stiles shiver in pleasure.

“That’s an excellent option. I always advise Dominants to offer food and water first and ask what the sub needs thereafter second.”

Derek nodded and moved to the head of the bench, cupping Stiles’ chin and guiding him to make eye contact. Stiles looked a bit dazed, as if the last of their play had finally sent him into subspace. Derek hadn’t gotten to topspace. Not in front of strangers. Derek smiled at his favorite and Stiles gave him a broad grin in return as he kept his eyes politely on Derek’s chin.

“Are you hungry or thirsty, my pet?”

“You have pretty stubble.”

“Stiles,” Derek stated firmly, “Food or water?”

“Water, if it pleases my Alpha.”

Derek fetched a glass of water from his bathroom and helped Stiles sip from it, noting how hungrily he slurped it down.

“What else do you need?” Derek coaxed.

“Your collar,” Stiles purred, “And a leash.”

Derek gave Paul an amused glance and saw the teacher smothering a laugh.

“I know you’re not done yet, my pretty favorite, but our lesson is over. Work with me here. Needs?”

“Yooouuu,” Stiles moaned, dropping his head back down on the bench.

He stroked his subs hair and then fetched the warm, damp rag to stroke over his abused flesh. Stiles hissed at a few points, giggled at another, and lifted his hips in obvious offer. Derek pushed them back down. He’d not be mounting him in front of others. Stiles relaxed again and Derek stepped back to consider his next option and decided the worst welt needed something on it.

“They… um… they don’t teach first aid to submissives,” Derek muttered after fetching the kit from his bathroom. He wasn’t even sure the contents were in date.

Paul stepped forward and gave him a brief explanation of the contents and their various uses.

“The best thing you can do for most of the cuts, scrapes, and welts is to put a bit of alcohol on them so they don’t get infected. After that I prefer to have mine followed up with some antiseptic cream to keep them from abrading further. Anything open should have a bandage or dressing put on it. MS’s thigh will just need a light wrap to keep it from chaffing further. Pain outside of a scene is often unwelcome.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Derek agreed, “He’s not much of a masochist anyway. It’s the orders he likes.”

Derek followed Paul’s instructions for wrapping his thigh in a light gauze to keep it from chaffing when he wore clothes. After he had finished Derek was more than a bit lost. He’d never successfully completed a scene outside of the tame one that he and Stiles had tried out on their own. He felt like he should do more, but in all actuality he didn’t feel as if he were _done_. He wanted to continue and then fuck his pretty lover, but not with this pair here.

“MS prefers orders?” Paul prompted.

“Stiles,” Derek stated clearly, “Go relieve yourself if needed and lie down in my bed.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles purred.

He pushed himself up and headed for the bedroom on wobbly legs. Derek watched him go before turning back to Paul.

“We can continue with sharp toys, choking, and electrocution next,” Paul stated.

“I thought you said electrocution was safe?” Derek asked.

“E-stim is,” Paul amended, “I like to go over the levels of free-range electrocution so Dominants know what could seriously harm or kill. That way no one gets curious and tries things out that end up costing someone their life. Our third lesson will include rope bondage if that interest’s you, but for the most part you have everything else down.”

Derek nodded, “I’d like to learn some intricate bondage, actually. I think that’s something we’d both enjoy.”

“It’s quite the art form,” Paul nodded, and then surprised him with a bow, “It was an honor to guide you, Dominant.”

Derek was taken aback at his sudden revert back to a submissive behavior. Many subs had to act neutral in public when in positions of power such as management or the police force, but Derek hadn’t engaged with them enough to be caught off guard as he was now. He felt awkward and cleared his throat a few times before responding instead to the unnamed and so-far silent Dominant in the corner.

“I’ll walk you both out.”

The Dominant nodded and Derek led them out of the Hale house without another word. His mind was on the slave in his rooms and he practically ran back to Stiles to find him on the bed with a bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand where Derek was sure he hadn’t left it. Derek climbed up on the bed, stripping off unwanted clothes before gripping both ass cheeks and parting them.

“You prepared yourself?”

“As it pleases my Alpha,” Stiles purred.

Derek grabbed the lube and slicked up his cock before crawling over his lover eagerly and gripping his chin, “Next time I take a toy to you it will be until you are satisfied, but for now I _need_ you.”

“My body is yours to do as you please, my Alpha,” Stiles purred, lifting his hips.

“Will you…” Derek hesitated, sliding his slick cock between his cheeks without pressing inside, “Will you leave me if I leave you unsatisfied?”

Stiles paused and broke scene enough to turn and give Derek a surprised look, “Alpha… Derek… no. No, that’s not going to happen. Try it out and see for yourself, okay? Leave me unsatisfied and wake with me tomorrow. I want you to.”

Derek chuckled, “You want me to leave you unsatisfied?”

“If it stops you from doubting me or our bond, then _yes_ ,” Stiles replied, “It’s not an uncommon scene. You take all you want from me and I show you my loyalty by remaining, knowing that I might not get what I want but I _will_ get what I need. I will _not_ resent you for it.”

Derek mouthed along Stiles’ ears, desire thrumming through him at the idea of such absolute control. Orgasm denial was it’s own type of sadism, although he’d been referring to their interrupted scene. He wasn’t opposed to this, nor to the idea that Stiles would prove himself to him.

“You won’t find some way to punish me?” Derek asked.

Stiles snorted, “If you ever notice your food is bland or your colored clothes are bleached you’ll know you did something to _really_ hurt me, but it won’t be because I didn’t get to come.”

Derek shook his head in amusement, “Find a better way to tell me than that, okay? Like your words.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Stiles snickered, “Cause, you know, you have, like, _all_ the trouble forming sentences and-“

“Kneel,” Derek ordered, bringing them back to scene.

Stiles, of course, couldn’t kneel while pinned beneath Derek’s substantial frame, but he did quickly press his face into the bed and moan wantonly as he pushed back against Derek’s cock. Since they had a standing order not to pretend with each other Derek knew it to be real. Stiles loved Derek’s orders, loved him taking control, and thoroughly enjoyed the burn as Derek slid into his body in one, unyielding, slow push. Stiles’ tight body wrapped around him, his pain receptors having been alit enough to turn his entry into pleasure. He let out a continuous moan and then panted as Derek bottomed out.

“My beauty,” Derek panted as he moved in and out of his body, “My own. My only.”

Derek’s movements sped up, taking and taking as pleasure burst through his body and into his brain. He could do this. Indulge himself in ways he never had. He could be the Dom who took and sated himself and used the submissives he lay with, knowing full well that it was not only his right as an owner, but that Stiles had given his implicit permission and promise that he would forgive him.

“My _slave!”_

Stiles moaned beneath him, but he made no move to touch himself and even when his gasps became frantic he didn’t ask permission to climax. Derek’s head fell onto Stiles’ shoulder and he choked out a long moan as he pressed his hips tightly to Stiles’ plush ass and emptied himself of all fear of his past. No one could haunt him again. He had the confidence, understanding, and a devoted one who would hold him up with his own body if need be.

Derek had to pause to catch his breath. His release had been so overwhelming and all encompassing. When he finally pushed himself up Stiles took a deep, relieved breath. He’d been crushing the poor thing and he’d only been able to take short breaths.

“Roll over,” Derek ordered.

Stiles obeyed, moving a leg around his knees so he could lay spread beneath Derek on his back. He was achingly hard, flushed, brow damp with sweat, and had a proud grin on his face as he smiled up at Derek’s chin with just enough cockiness to warrant a punishment from a less gentle master. From Derek it produced only pride. He was coming to love this sassy slave who reached for him when he thought Derek was hurt even though it might garner him reprimand.

“Look at you,” Derek growled hungrily, “So gorgeous just for me. So proud. Is my come leaking out of you?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“My favorite,” Derek groaned, and moved down his body to wrap his lips around Stiles’ cock and suck on it hungrily.

Stiles let out a punched grunt and gripped the pillows above his head as he fought off the urge to climax right at that moment. Derek sucked harder, slurping and rubbing his tongue eagerly. As a sub he’d learned this. This base and easy activity that often pacified Dominants. He’d never learned to do it _as_ a Dom, but he was certain it was possible. He could pleasure Stiles without lowering his own status as a Dominant in his eyes. Of course, at the moment pleasure was leaning towards torture. Stiles tapped the bed, the universal symbol that he was close to orgasm, unable to hold it back, but unable to speak. D erek lifted his head in surprise to find Stiles gasping for breath, face flushed and drenched in sweat.

Derek had hated edging, but that hadn’t been on _Stiles_ ’ list of short stops. He was reconciling that the things he disliked done on himself Stiles might enjoy, and not only that but Derek might just want to perform them. Shamelessly. And often.

The second Stiles’ hand relaxed on the bed Derek jumped on him again, this time jerking his cock in a firm grip as Stiles arched, gasped, moaned, and cried out beneath him. Stiles was gripping his own hair, pulling on it as he wriggled in longing. He writhed beneath Derek shamelessly, unable to contain himself as he fought off his climax. Derek let go when he again slapped the bed frantically. Stiles panted, slowed his breathing, and then calmed himself by counting backwards in a ragged voice. When he got to one Derek swallowed him down again, pulling screams from his lover that had someone banging on his door.

“We’re safe!” Stiles shrieked out, “We’re safe!”

The banging stopped, but Derek did not. He kept suckling past the point Stiles hit the bed again, bringing him into a climax that had him curling in on himself as he spilled down Derek’s throat. When Derek lifted his head Stiles was limp on the bed with the exception of one twitching leg. He was spent beyond consciousness and Derek felt such an immense pride that he couldn’t contain it.

Derek stood up on the bed and punched the air, “Whoo! Yeah! Ha ha!”

Derek jumped down from the bed and headed for the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and grinning up at his reflection. He felt powerful. Immortal. Superman in his inner sanctum. Stiles laughed a bit from the bed, apparently waking up from his lust-driven stupor. Derek returned with a wet cloth to revive him further, gently stroking it down his face to ease his discomfort as Stiles continued to breathe heavily as he sought to catch his breath.

“Did I please my alpha?” Stiles asked in a hoarse voice.

“So very much,” Derek promised, “You were unbelievable. Everything I never knew I wanted and needed.”

“I…” Stiles eyes flickered up from Derek’s chin to his eyes, “I love you.”

“Damn, and there it is,” Derek whispered, laying his forehead on Stiles’ and shutting his eyes, “More that I needed. I cherish you, my fav… no, my one and only.”

“My Alpha.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Derek had expected the police to break down the doors to Peter’s suite and arrest him. What he hadn’t expected was the next morning’s table to be short one submissive spouse and all his cousins while Peter glared at them all coldly. Everyone was awkward and Derek assumed it was due to his loud sexual exploits the day before. Deaton had apparently been the one banging on his door, as his sister had sent Deaton to deal with the possible effects on his slave. Stiles’ shout had sent him away and Deaton was unbothered, but the house was a mess of anxiety.

Derek didn’t know what the fuss was about. Laura had men over regularly to have loud, raunchy sex. There was a reason Jacob was furthest away from their rooms; even though it was regularly assumed that kids would hear _some_ things it was also expected for parents to shield them as much as possible. Derek supposed they had been particularly loud though. So to make up for it he canceled his plans to have Stiles feed him and instead had him kneel so he could perform the normal ritual. Stiles’ training held up and he didn’t even blink at the change in plans.

“Where’s your darling sub, brother?” Talia asked halfway through breakfast.

“I don’t know, sister dear, why don’t you ask _Derek_?” Peter growled out, “Some nosy detective came by and intimidated her. She’s taken to bed, she was so frightened.”

Talia froze, eyes shooting over to Derek who straightened up and frowned angrily. And… stopped up. He’d fought so damn hard to get his words out in order to get _himself_ out of the closet his parents and siblings- no _this man-_ had put him into, but now that he was faced with his abuser he was absolutely terrified. He didn’t know what to do. He could feel his face flushing brilliantly and felt sick to his stomach. The eggs weren’t going to taste as good coming back up and he suddenly wished he’d dined on Stiles’ bland as fuck oatmeal. Derek reached for Stiles to give himself strength but his hand was shaking and he missed, just bumping his shoulder. Stiles took it as permission and relief washed over Derek.

“Let’s start,” Stiles stood up slowly from the floor, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring, “With how you abused me.”

“What the f- Derek, get your sub in order. I’ve never even _touched_ him!” Peter snarled.

“You spent my childhood convincing people around me I was a _sub_ , demanding that I hide who I was, teaching me to fear my own Dominance,” Stiles continued.

“See, this is pretty confusing without context,” Derek leaned back and folded his arms, at ease with Stiles handling the situation, “He’s talking for me because I get all stopped up.”

“I don’t know what you’re doing to your own kids, but you can be _damn_ sure that I’m not going to sit by and let another person be bullied into a corner the way you pushed and controlled me.”

Stiles dropped back down to his knees and Derek sighed, running his hand down his face. He wasn’t so sure about Stiles’ runaway mouth even though that was most of what had been going through his head, but he sure as hell would have liked it censored. He'd just had his vulnerability flashed at the breakfast table! Peter was laughing, gesturing at them as if they were absolutely ridiculous and he was waiting for the rest of the room to start laughing as well. Talia looked horrified, her husband perplexed, but his siblings…

“He tried that with you, too?” Laura whispered, eyes down and face twisted in shame.

Derek’s eyes flew over to her in horror, “What?”

Cora started crying, hand over her mouth and head lowered so uncharacteristically that Derek suddenly wished his eggs would come up all over Peter’s currently malicious snarl. Talia’s eyes were wide with horror as she slowly rose to her feet.

“What? What did he try?” She asked.

“Please,” Peter snarled, standing and tossing his napkin down on the table, “Children. You’re all pathetic. As if a _switch_ could make a room full of Dom’s do anything.”

Doubt. It was an old friend, but for his slave at his feet Derek might have crumbled. To keep him he couldn’t. He rose to his feet and Stiles stood as well, but when Stiles opened his mouth to speak Derek snapped his fingers and the slave dropped back to the floor obediently.

“Just as soon as Stiles’ father has enough on you to build a case I’m going to testify,” Derek stated, “You won’t ever do this to another person again.”

“Do what?” Peter laughed, “I’ve done nothing, absolutely nothing _that you can substantiate_. You can’t even put my supposed transgressions into _words!_ And for this you scare my wife and sub? She’s taken our kids and gone to her mothers house because of you!”

Derek stood his ground, shaking with anger and fear yet intensely relieved that his cousins were gone and not murdered by someone who he was realizing now was far more insidious than he’d previously realized.

“I may not be eloquent but you hurt us. Apparently _all_ of us! How many of my cousins are Doms? Switches? Did you subdue _all_ of them?”

“Sister, dear,” Peter growled angrily, “I’ll be moving out. Expect to hear from my lawyers, and _you_ … _submissive_ Derek… you can expect to appear in court when I file for a restraining order! You stay away from my family!”

Peter turned to leave while Talia trembled, staring around at her frightened children in horror. Jacob was staring at the table, completely tuned out of the discussion, and Derek wondered if his abuse had been as severe as Derek’s since he was a male like Peter. This was clearly a man with an inferiority complex and he was so manipulative that Derek wasn’t at all sure that he wouldn’t get away with it.

“What did he do?” Talia asked, voice quivering.

No one answered and Cora began to cry harder. Laura leaned over to wrap her arms around her younger sister, holding her tightly.

“Well?!” Talia asked, slamming hands down on the table, “Answer me?!”

“Talia,” Jethro spoke up softly from the ground, “Talia, sweetheart, this is _not_ the time to dominate them. They’re frightened.”

“And I’m _angry!”_ Talia shouted back at him.

“At _Peter_.”

“At secrets and lies in my own home!”

“At _Peter_ making your children afraid, like _you’re_ doing now.”

Talia looked at the stiff and still room around her and slowly sat down, fear on her face as she studied the tense expressions on her everyone else’s.

“What went wrong?” Talia whispered, “When did my children stop talking to me? Start being afraid to? Was it something I did? Or Peter?”

“Peter,” Stiles spoke softly, “It was Peter.”

“He told me I’d never measure up to you,” Derek spoke softly, finding his power by gripping Stiles’ shoulder tightly. This wasn’t something Stiles could say for him, “He told me that every urge I had was dangerous. Violent. I had no idea it could be artistic and beautiful. He told me it was _supposed_ to be terrible. So when those women hurt me- when they walked past every single hard stop I had and broke every contract- I didn’t even blink because it was what he taught me and that rang louder than any lesson in school.”

“He told me I was filthy,” Laura whispered, “Every single day of my life. Filthy. Disgusting. A _whore_. He said the only reason I wanted to Dominate anyone was because I had no power over my _uterus bleeding_ every month.”

Cora stood up from the table sharply, knocking the chair down on the floor and fled the room. Talia was torn, looking between her children in horror. Derek settled it by mouthing ‘go’ and nodding towards Cora. She was the youngest besides Jacob and the most visibly distressed. She needed her mother immediately.

Derek looked at his father, but he had sat down in Cora’s chair to speak with Laura.

“You know he’s wrong, baby,” Jethro soothed, hand stroking her hair, “Your body is doing exactly what it is meant to do and there’s nothing filthy about it.”

“I know that, dad,” Laura replied, but her voice was shaking.

Derek looked at Jacob. Silent. Still. Eyes down. Like Derek had been for so many years. He glanced back at his father to meet his father’s eyes for the first time in _years._ Those eyes darted over to Jacob and Derek practically fell out of his chair trying to turn to his brother. A sub asked for help and Derek jumped to their rescue, even if the rescue was technically his brother’s. Derek stared at the side of Jacob’s face and then reached out and gripped his shoulder firmly.

“Hey. Jacob. He’s _wrong._ Everything he said to me, whatever he said to you? _He’s_ wrong. You being a Dom, it isn’t violent or cruel. It can be so gorgeous and… yesterday I got to get the same training that you’ve had already. It was probably different for me because I had Stiles over there whispering in my ears instead of him. It wasn’t awful. When I reached a toy that I wasn’t comfortable using on Stiles- because he’s so totally _not_ much of a masochist- I felt sick. My instincts kicked in. Even though I would have liked to play with it, my submissive’s needs came first. I practically dropped it, and Jacob, _you will too.”_

Jacob blinked a few times and tears dripped down his apple cheeks, “What if… what if I’m not a Dom?”

“Then mom and dad, and your sisters, and me, we’ll all love the fuck out of you as a sub,” Derek told him, “You don’t have to live up to _anyone’s_ expectations, okay? Just your own. Jakey? Hey, look at me, buddy?”

Jacob turned his head and met Derek’s eyes steadily, not dropping them the way Derek was wont to do.

“What if I’m a switch?”

“Same thing.”

“What if I’m _vanilla_.”

“I’ll buy you the best book on vanilla sex there is and only be _slightly_ curious, in a not-weird way, about how you keep things from being completely boring,” Derek teased.

Jacob broke into a smile and laughed lightly, “You were always so angry. So just… smoldering mad. Like, you would sit there and glare at your food and I was like… is being a sub that bad? And Peter’s so bitter. So being a switch must be awful, too.”

“No. Neither. He’s wrong and I was angry _because_ of him. I’m happy now. I have this gorgeous man in my life and _he’s_ happy as a submissive. You can talk to him if you want. I’ll give you permission.”

“You… you will?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “You want to talk to him?”

Jacob’s eyes wandered over to Stiles, still kneeling on the floor with eyes facing towards the table as if nothing were happening. Derek didn’t doubt he’d broken stance when he wasn’t looking, but he was prim and proper at the moment Jacob looked over. Derek watched with a ball of nervous energy in his stomach as Jacob pushed his chair back and slowly slipped to his knees. Derek put his hand over his mouth, surprised by the sobs that wanted to fall as his vision was blurred by tears. He turned enough to watch Jacob make his way over to Stiles on his knees, push a spare chair out of the way, and kneel on Stiles’ other side. He put his hands on the table and leaned his forehead against it.

“Hey,” Jacob muttered.

“Hello,” Stiles replied in that clear voice of his, “What may this one call you?”

“Just… Just Jacob for now. I haven’t figured the rest out.”

“This one _definitely_ understands.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Derek woke up slowly, his limbs felt heavy and his stomach was cramping painfully. He rolled over and promptly fell out of the bed. He hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of himself and struggled to drag a breath in. It took him a few moments and when he did the smell of the floor made him woozy. He pulled himself up and then fell again.

“Sti-iles?” Derek croaked, recalling the submissive had fallen asleep beside him, “Stiles? Why’zz the floooor make me si-ick?”

“Derek!” Laura’s voice was muffled as her hands gripped his arms, “Derek, we have to get out of here!”

“Stiles?”

Derek’s vision went fuzzy and when it cleared again he was out in the hall being coaxed down the stairs, unsure of when he’d gotten up on his feet. A pair of firemen were headed his way and Laura let out a relieved sob.

“There are four other people in this wing and a bunch of slaves… I-I don’t know how many- in the slave wing.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned.

“Oh! And his slave! He wasn’t in your room, Der!”

Derek tried to pull away from Laura’s arms only to topple down the last three steps. Laura chased after him, but another fireman stopped her. They had paramedics on the way and they wanted to clear the house. They grabbed Derek despite his snarles for them to stop and carried him outside. Derek kept blinking but his vision didn’t clear until he was outside. Once he had a few clean breaths of air he realized his vision had been so distorted because the house had been filled with _smoke_.

“Laura!” Derek spat out, “The house is on fire!”

“Oh, really?!” She shouted at him sarcastically as she pulled off a gas mask, “You think?!”

“The fuck did you get a gas mask from?” Derek asked.

“Date a geek. They’ll tell you. Often, and with vague references that you have no choice but to catch on to or be left feeling totally stupid. Also, bowties are cool.”

“The fuck is in that gas?!” Derek asked, looking up at their house.

A firefighter had just reached the third story where they were coaxing Cora out of her window. He’d been leaning out of it to get some air and looked terrified. He shouted for Derek and ran to him as soon as they got down on the ground.

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek asked, “Was he with you?”

“No!” Jacob shook his head.

“They’ll find him, Derek,” Laura soothed.

“Peter did this,” Derek stated shaking his head in horror.

“This isn’t from a fire,” A firefighter stated as he came up to them, and removed his mask, “This is white smoke. It’s from _chemicals_. I need to know what I’m sending my people into. What were you punks doing in there? Meth? Crack?”

“It was Peter!” Derek insisted, “We realized he was hurting people in the house. He was going to be thrown out!”

“It had to be!” Laura insisted.

“With _what?_ ” The man insisted.

“We don’t know,” She replied anxiously, “Have you found anyone else?”

“Not yet,” He replied, “Tell me how you felt when you breathed it in? We’re going to need to treat you all.”

Derek and Laura haltingly described it while Cora clung to Laura. Derek ended up throwing up partway through the description so the fireman gave him a little break while he took in more oxygen. Finally they came back out again, but his parents and Jacob were completely limp on their backs. Stiles wasn’t to be seen, but the slaves were being pulled out of the back. The EMT’s wouldn’t let a him go check for Stiles. They did tell him they were certain that the house was clear and that the gas was dissipating on its own.

It was another several hours, after they had all checked out of the hospital, before Derek received actual confirmation that Stiles hadn’t been recued.

He hadn’t been in the house at all.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

“Stiles wouldn’t do this,” Derek insisted, “Why are you even looking at him for it?”

“He has a criminal past,” The officer replied lazily, “He’s missing.”

“My uncle _took him.”_

“Your uncle, who is _also_ missing, has been an upstanding citizen his entire life. Not even a parking ticket.”

Derek glared angrily at them. He missed Stiles. He missed the confidence that came with controlling him and he could use a voice during this ridiculous questioning. He wasn’t being ‘questioned’, just having his story clarified. He wasn’t sure what the difference was but his mother’s lawyer was at his side being useless. Talia, Jacob, and Jethro were all at the hospital still, but Talia had woken up for long enough to talk to the police. She’d seen and heard nothing, but was certain that her brother was _not_ responsible. Derek was furious and hurt and at a complete loss for what to do with his life.

“I want a different lawyer,” Derek stated, folding his arms and scowling.

“We're just having a conversation, Mr. Hale,” The man smiled condescendingly, “There's no need to have _this_ one let alone another.”

“Bullshit,” Derek growled out, “You're fishing, but I'm telling you the truth. Stiles didn't do this. My uncle did. He's a manipulative bastard and he's _got my slave.”_

“Are you filing a theft report on a person who is currently in the hospital, ill from smoke inhalation?”

“He's... what?”

“Yeah, he turned up. Neighbors found him passed out in the garden next door.”

“So this is the kind of conversation where you _lie_ to citizens?”

“This is the kind where I try to fill in the holes in your first statement now that you know that I know they're there.”

“No,” Derek stated flatly, “This is the part where you charge me or let me go. I took law classes. I know my rights. New lawyer. Charges or release. Now.”

Derek was out in under an hour, rage coursing through his system. Peter had done this somehow, and no ridiculous notion about Stiles being a criminal and after their money was going to derail him... even if it niggled as a possible truth. He had seen Stiles' logic play out, and he trusted his sassy slave with his own safety. Stiles wouldn't poison his family. Stiles wouldn't leave him. He wouldn't steal the fucking _silver._ Hell, if Stiles were going to rob them he'd take something valuable... like Laura, since she was the actual heir and worth their mother's time.

Derek went, of course, to visit his uncle in the hospital. He was fuming mad as he stepped into the room, but he'd been cool enough to fake his way past the desk so he was far from Dom Ferocity. He walked up to his uncle's bedside, fully aware that the police were likely watching from somewhere nearby.

“Where is he?” Derek demanded.

Peter was still. Unresponsive. Staring off into space as if comatose. Derek didn't believe it for a second.

“I will find him,” Derek promised, “And when I do I will end you. Slowly. Painfully.”

No response.

Derek left with the sole purpose in mind to search his uncle's suite and find an answer. Any answer. What he found instead was Scott, stopping him in his tracks with an angry expression on his face.

“You think he took Stiles?”

Derek's nostrils flared and the switch lowered his eyes, “MS-1245 to you.”

“Right. MS. You think he took him?”

“I know he did, I just have to find out _where.”_

Scott bit his lower lip, “I know the Hale's have been kind to me. They didn't turn me in when they should have. I just... I don't think your mom's thinking clearly and I'm scared it's going to cost Stiles his-”

Derek's hand gripped Scott's throat, cutting off his words and ending his annoying rambling, “If you have information, give it to me now.”

Derek released his throat and Scott gave him an irritated glare, “Man, Stiles is right. You have all the drama and no flare.”

“He's with you?!”

“I wish,” Scott replied with a huff, “He's gone, but I think I know where he is. Peter had this sort of... bunker. He was storing things there. The slaves told me after he took some of them down there to work them over and fuck them. He left scars, but it was never life threatening so I couldn't report it.”

“Seriously? On our _own_ property?”

“It's beneath the dead stump on the north side. He calls it his _nematon.”_

 


	19. Chapter 19

Stiles didn't know how he got into the hellish basement pit, but he was immediately aware that something was not right here. This wasn't healthy. People didn't snatch slaves out of someone's bed and hang them from the ceiling without being seriously fucked up individuals. Erica had told him about having been brought to Peter's 'Nematon', but she'd talked about it as if it were a sexual awakening. Stiles was wide awake and wished he were dreaming, because the rows of electrical probes looked like nightmares.

“My silly little nephew is afraid of electricity,” Peter's smarmy voice cooed, making Stiles feel instantly in need of a shower, “His first girlfriend had a nasty habit of electricuting him until his heart stopped and then restarting it again. She nearly killed him twice before his mother caught on and pulled him out. He was never the same again. Doesn't even remember it and she got away without charges. Brain damage? Trauma? Possibly both? What do you think?”

“I think you're brain is-”

A sharp pain went through Stiles' leg, shot up his body, made his heart seize, and hit his brain hard enough to white out his vision. Stiles was panting for breath, his heart working at odd intervals and making him fear death in all new ways.

“I'm so sorry,” Peter's slimy voice reached his ears over the irregular pounding of his heart, “I should have mentioned. Furniture should be seen and not heard.”

The cattle prod hit his leg again and Stiles convulsed until he bit his tongue and blood dripped down his chin.

“Except, of course, for your screams,” Peter purred.

“Derek,” Stiles slurred out as he began to weep, “I belong to _Derek._ He's my alpha. No touchy.”

“I'm the alpha,” Peter growled, eyes flashing red, “I've _always_ been the alpha!”

 


	20. Chapter 20

Scott opened the entrance to the pit up and they both stared down into it. Derek could smell the burnt hair and skin along with an underlying ozone scent that made his hair follicles stand on end. He knew what that smell meant. It meant electrocution and he was instantly back on a rack under the control of one twisted bitch by the name of Kate Argent. Scott had dated her niece Allison at one point and Derek had been suspicious of him ever since. That recollection suddenly surged forward and he shifted away, eyes narrowing at Scott when he gave him a confused puppy look.

“After you,” Derek stated.

Scott swallowed in obvious fear but squared his shoulders and jumped down into the pit. Not what Derek had had planned. There was a _ladder_ , for fuck's sake, but it seemed a wiser plan so Derek jumped as well. He nearly landed on Scott in the darkened room, knocking him sideways and into a wall. Scott's screams had him instantly reaching out to pull him away from the wall, but it only resulted in Derek being shocked as well.

The entire room was electrified.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Peter stared at the limp figure before him, entirely unimpressed. This submissive had somehow brought out Derek's weakened dominant side? Yet he did nothing to inspire Peter, who had been working tirelessly to bring out his own power. He knew he was a Dom, but he was a weak one and had been classified as a switch as a child. His annoying sister had bullied him into submission, but no one believed him. Dom's didn't get bullied. Dom's did the bullying, so Peter practiced on her idiotic and overly excitable children. He made sure that they all knew exactly what he thought of them and their bitch mother. He made sure that they knew they were under _his_ household and that as soon as he managed to overthrow his sister they would be his serfs. Peter was making his own kingdom beneath the weight of his sister's home. It was dark and damp, but so was Peter's soul. He was cold. Angry. Violent. Everything an alpha was meant to be, but he still failed the test year after year. He had been told his ability to produce red eyes alone would label him dominant, but he refused to accept that as the sole recognition. He wanted to pass the psych eval. He needed to, but this shitty little submissive wasn't going to get him there.

“I'm done,” Peter growled angrily, “It's her fault. She broke me. Beat me. Locked me in that damn cupboard for days on end until I shit and piss myself and cried myself out. She broke me before I was ready to emerge! I'll make her pay. I'll make them all pay!”

Peter turned sharply and climbed out of his sanctuary, heading for the house and the cleaning closet. The chemicals he'd been taught about as a part of his switch training were easily mixed into buckets that he carried to the stairwells and dumped down. He threw them into the halls and dumped them into the vents. When he added the final bucket to each area a vicious plume of chemical fumes began to rise and Peter laughed hysterically as he watched the toxic mass rise.

Talia's bedroom door opened and her hands flew over her face as she tried to block the substance making her eyes water, “Peter?! Peter, what have you done!”

“VENGEANCE!” Peter laughed, “VENGEANCE, SISTER! VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE!”

Talia staggared forward, eyes tortured as she grabbed onto Peter's arm and wrestled him to a window. She tried to pull it open while he fought her, but she was stronger than he since he had been breathing the fumes for longer. His vision was growing grey around the edges as she got the window open and forced him against the ledge.

“I am so sorry, Peter,” She whispered, “I was just a child. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“Then why do it to Derek as well?” He sneered back at her as she tried to push his head out of the window.

Talia froze in horror and Peter jerked his leg back, kicking her kneecap to down her before tipping himself forward and plunging down two flights to the bushes below. The fall knocked him unconscious, but he woke up to the sound of sirens and dragged himself to his feet. His Nematon wasn't far away. He staggered towards it, vomited blood all over the azaleas, and made his way into another set of bushes before he realized he'd gone the wrong way. He was in the neighbor's yard, but too weak to make it back. Peter collapsed, angry that his last sight wouldn't be the corpse of the submissive who had failed him.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Derek awoke to find his chest aching and the painfully familiar smell of burnt hair filling his nostrils. For a moment he tried to croak out the name of his previous lover to beg her for mercy, but then he heard a masculine groan of pain nearby. She'd been cruel, but she'd been faithful. There had never been another man nearby when he'd been tortured in the past. Derek forced his eyes open and saw Scott's confused expression.

“Dude,” Scott groaned, “I think we died.”

“Maybe,” Derek allowed, but pushed himself up without acknowledging the pain in his joints, “Stiles.”

“Oh, yeah,” Scott gasped.

The room was dark and Derek didn't dare look for a light switch, “Don't touch the walls.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Scott replied, moaning in pain as he pushed himself up.

“Stiles?!” Derek croaked out.

A soft sound met his ears and Derek forced himself to move towards it. He pulled out his phone, but it was completely fried. No way to get light from that source. He'd have to trust his own senses to get him through the darkened tunnel alive.

“Stiles!” Derek called again.

“Der...” Stiles whimpered.

“Stiles, I'm coming.”

“C-careful.”

“I'm,” Derek started, but his movements brought him too close and he touched another wall covered in electrified fences.

Nothing happened.

Derek heaved a sigh of relief. They'd burnt out the power. The grid was down. Derek moved quickly through the tunnel now that he could use his hands and found Stiles hanging from a rack on the ceiling, limp and smelling of blood. Derek's hands wandered his body, looking for the restrains to release him from and found him tied with rubber coated ropes, probably in order to make electrocution easier.

“My heart won't stop...” Stiles panted, “Hurts.”

“You need the hospital,” Derek told him, “They have this medication that will re-regulate your heart. You'll be okay.”

“Th-this why you didn't like the e-st-stim?”

It took Derek a moment to remember what Stiles was talking about. Then he recalled pulling out the violet wand and promtly throwing up all over himself. Stiles had cleaned up Derek and the mess without a word, gently washing him in the shower and even brushing his teeth. Since servitude threw Stiles into subspace he'd been content to let that be their scene that night and had wrapped himself around Stiles to sleep off the distress he'd given himself.

“Yeah,” Derek replied softly, “Been on the wrong side of it a few times. All my exes liked it. I think I'll cancel that lesson and move onto rope restraints. Maybe then I'll be able to get you the fuck down if something like this ever happens again.”

Derek fought the knots but it was Scott who pointed out the release rope. Stiles sagged into Derek's arms and Scott helped him get the abused submissive out of the pit and up to the light of day. Derek looked Stiles over and felt like throwing up all over again. Stiles was covered in contusions and shallow cuts probably made by an actual scalpel. Stiles hadn't written off knife play as a hard stop, but this wasn't voluntary. This was assault. Nothing from this would have been pleasurable. He wouldn't have easily found the safety of his headspace.

“Stiles,” Derek soothed as Scott talked to the 911 operator, “Honey, who did this to you?”

“P-Peter,” Stiles replied shakily.

“I told you,” Scott hissed.

“I knew, but I had to confirm,” Derek replied testily, “Besides, I wanted to make sure he knows what's going on around him. Sweetheart, the police are going to ask you if you went with him willingly. Remind them you're _my_ slave, and that you didn't have to go with him even though he lives under our roof. Tell them you didn't consent.”

“Don't even remember,” Stiles admitted, face pale as a sheet, “Just woke up there. Horrifying. Wrong. Don't let him touch me again?”

“Never again,” Derek promised as he petted Stiles' cheek, “Sweet my love, never again.”

“You care about him,” Scott spoke up softly, “He's not just a slave to you.”

“He's _my_ slave,” Derek replied firmly.

“He's my friend,” Scott said softly, “Can I use his name, please? Dominant?”

Derek looked up from where he was holding Stiles' hand into Scott's big, sad eyes as he held the phone to his ear and the sirens sounded in the distance.

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, Scott, you can call him Stiles.”

“Thank you, Dominant.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles' heart was self regulating by the time they got to the hospital, but he, Scott, and Derek were all admitted for observance overnight. Derek demanded a room with Stiles as his Owner and gave Scott permission to visit on a whim, something that surprised the staff. He was placed in a bed beside Stiles, but for the sake of the nurses' ability to work around them there was a sizable gap. Derek couldn't sleep. He lay there watching Stiles the entire night and the staff couldn't give him any sedatives due to his recent electric shock. They called it hyper vigilance and asked Stiles to change his cloth gown. They laid the used gown over his pillow and Derek finally dropped off to sleep with the scent of his slave reminding him that his lover was safe.

When Derek woke up Stiles was making his way from the bathroom to Derek's side, dragging a pole along behind him with a happy smile on his face. He couldn't easily kneel with all the stitches in his legs, but he bowed and took Derek's hand so he could press kisses to his knuckles.

“Good morning my beloved alpha,” Stiles purred.

Derek's traitorous cock twitched and Stiles smirked as if he could tell despite the blankets blocking his view. While Stiles' eyes never raised higher than Derek's chin as was proper, he was entirely focused on his Dominant and Derek could feel that calm that spread through him when Stiles submitted and it soothed him even as it reminded him that he was responsible for this beautiful man.

“I'm so sorry, Stiles,” Derek whispered, “I didn't even wake up when he took you.”

“He gassed your whole family,” Stiles scolded gently, “He probably doused you, too. I'm fine. You're fine.”

“You're _scarred_ for _life_ ,” Derek reminded him.

Stiles didn't physically pull away, but he did go suddenly still and his eyes became distant. Derek could tell even though they didn't meet his eyes. He pulled on Stiles' long, beautiful fingers.

“Hey. I don't care. I love your body, but I'm angry, Stiles. I wanted to put marks on you. Not _him_.”

“You could still mark me,” Stiles spoke softly, “Something more permanent. Something that light therapy, time, and lotion won't heal.”

“I thought you fainted at the sight of blood?”

“I do,” Stiles nodded, “And needles, but it would be worth it to wear your mark.”

“What kind of mark are you talking about?”

“A tattoo,” Stiles replied softly, “If this is as permanent as I think it is- and I see how hooked you are on me- than why not?”

“Hm,” Derek's finger stroked down Stiles' cheek and he smiled softly, “A tattoo... right on your lower back. Above your ass. Dipping down into the crack so the top arms frame your gorgeous bubble butt.”

“Arms? A tattoo of you or something?”

“I was thinking the triskelle that I have. My family's tattoo.”

“I would be honored,” Stiles whispered.

Derek smiled softly and pulled Stiles down for a long, slow kiss. He cupped the back of his head gently as he slid their tongues together. When they parted Stiles looked calmer and more sure of himself.

“My only,” Derek breathed.

“Was Scott there after you found me?” Stiles asked.

“He led me to you,” Derek replied, “Apparently Peter's been taking slaves down there.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “Erica liked it, but... gods, I wanted to puke. I swear that he didn't... it wasn't sexual and I didn't enjoy any of it. At all.”

Derek blinked. It hadn't occurred to him that Stiles might enjoy it, but it did comfort him to know his uncle hadn't violated his slave.

“Good, that's... good. The police will want to talk to you.”

“They came by while you were asleep. I refused to talk to them until you woke up. I have a right to refuse to talk to the police without my Dom present and... you know. Alert.”

Derek nodded, “That's good.”

“They said they'd be back in the afternoon, and that's in about twenty minutes, so...”

“Then I guess I'd better piss and get some food.”

“I'll get your food,” Stiles assured him, and began dragging himself to the doorway.

“Hey! Dumbass. Use the call button.”

Stiles snorted and returned to his bed to hit the call button. Derek dragged himself up and headed for the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for a moment, unable to believe the enormity of his life. Just two months ago he'd thought he was just a shitty sub or a pathetic excuse for a switch. Now he not only was clear on being a Dominant, but he owned his own slave... who he'd almost lost the day before. Stiles had looked _dead_ and Derek wasn't okay with that.

Derek pissed, washed his hands, washed his face, ran his hands over his stubble, decided that was a lost cause, and headed out into the main room. Stiles was in the process of ordering Derek's food, but without missing a beat he snatched up some toiletries and headed for Derek. He held out dry shampoo, deodorant, and shaving cream. Derek didn't have a razor and a quick sort through the bucket didn't find one available, so he took the rest and returned to the bathroom to give himself a bit more of a freshening up. He returned to find Stiles laying back on the bed looking drained. He started to sit up but Derek growled at him to lie back down.

“I can take care of myself. Heal for now. I need you to be well.”

“I was told to be up and taking care of my Alpha unless I was on death's door,” Stiles argued weakly.

“Do you see that door?” Derek pointed at the door to their room just as a nurse walked in, “That's death's fucking door. Now lay down and let me take care of myself.”

“Rude,” Stiles sighed, but didn't fight it as the nurse set up the food.

Derek sat down on the edge of Stiles' bed, adjusting it to raise the head. When the food was on the tray table in front of Stiles Derek handed him the fork and leaned in. Stiles' eyes lit up and he began to feed Derek, alternating between them both while smiling at Derek's lips with so much love in his eyes that it was breathtaking. The officers arrived during their long meal and gave them a baffled look. It was far more common in the USA for the submissive to be fed, but Derek didn't care what protocol he was breaking. This was how Stiles wanted to care for him and a way for him to submit while he was laid up. The police officers sat down and directed their eyes to Derek.

“Good evening, Dom Hale, we'd like to ask your submissive-”

“Slave.”

“Slave?”

“He's my slave,” Derek stated, “You know that.”

“You aren't registered as a Dominant.”

“You just called me one and have been.”

“Yes, well...” The man cleared his throat and the woman beside him raised a judgmental eyebrow. Derek wondered if they were distantly related. The eyebrow thing tended to be a Hale trait.

“May we?” She asked.

Derek nodded, “As soon as my lawyer gets here.”

“Your mother revoked her lawyer,” She stated softly.

Derek's stomach twisted and dropped. He wasn't sure how many times he could possibly be let down by her before he would finally accept that she wasn't a good mother and stopped trying to make her one in his mind.

“Then I require one to be appointed since I don't have access to my family's funds at this point in time.”

“We just want his statement.”

“A lawyer, or you won't get it,” Derek stated firmly.

“Is there something you're hiding?”

“Is there some law that you're unaware of? Lawyer.”

They stepped out of the room and Derek continued to enjoy Stiles' attention. Finally the officers returned with a harried looking lawyer who sat down with them alone briefly.

“I was informed that this is a simple case of slave stealing?” he asked.

“Not quite,” Derek replied, “They think Stiles here gassed my family, but he was abducted by my uncle at the time. Non-consensual.”

“They informed me that those accusations have been dropped,” The lawyer insisted, “They're looking at Peter for it all, which is why your mother withdrew her lawyer.”

“Sure it is,” Derek replied dryly. Stiles snorted.

“So we're going to stick to the facts and only discuss the situation at hand. Stiles was abducted. He did not consent to a scene. He was put in mortal danger. Peter Hale was the culprit. Anything else I need to know before they come in?”

“I want a restraining order against him,” Stiles stated, “For Derek as well.”

The lawyer gave Stiles a shocked look and then averted his eyes to Derek, “Why is he talking?”

“He's better at it,” Derek replied.

“I'm smarter, too.”

“Don't make me slap you while you're hurt,” Derek growled.

“Promises, promises.”

“I'll gag you,” Derek promised. Stiles' jaw clicked shut and Derek nodded, “Behave yourself. Send in the cops.”

The officers returned and Stiles showed his first round of shyness. Derek rarely saw him interact with anyone besides his own Alpha, so it was odd to see Stiles directing speech to others. He reached out for Derek's hand and gripped it tightly, his voice shaking a bit as he told of waking up in the place and being violently abused. Derek ended up stroking his hair gently while hating his uncle with a burning vengeance.

“He'll go to jail, right?” Derek asked angrily, “You're not letting him out on bail? He's rich and has a passport. I'll testify.”

“Son,” The officer stated as he rose to his feet and put his notepad away, “Like I was trying to tell you, this isn't a prosecution matter.”

“The hell do you mean it isn't a prosecution matter?!”

“I mean,” The man replied dryly, “That your uncle is never going to wake up. He's a vegetable, or as good as.”

Derek was silent a moment, his anger thrumming beneath the surface as doubt of his uncle's condition flared up, “If he wakes up?”

“If he wakes up,” the woman spoke up, “He'll be tried for attempted murder, abduction, theft, and sexual assault.”

Derek nodded and the lawyer leaned in, “The PFA won't-”

“I know it won't go through,” Derek growled, “Get me my money.”

“Your-?” He asked in confusion.

“My mother has my funds. As an alpha I'm entitled to it. Get me access. Fast. I want out of that household as of yesterday.”

“I'm not that sort of-”

“You want to get paid?”

“Okay. Money. Sure. I'll get you your money.”

“Good. I'll tell you what to say and do, just use your license to get it done.”

The man looked disgusted, but he didn't argue so Derek considered that a win. Once the officers and lawyer left Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple and stepped out to ask the nurses a few questions. Once he knew where his uncle was in relation to their room, where Scott's room was, and that IL was at a different hospital he returned to speak with Stiles.

“Once I have access to my funds I'm leaving. I can't live under her roof anymore.”

“No kidding,” Stiles replied with a firm nod.

“I'm going to see if I can bring Scott and IL with me to start my household. Maybe Laura. If I can get Laura to follow me than I can bring more.”

“More... slaves?”

“More switches and submissives,” Derek replied, “If I'm going to form a separate pack I need more people with me. I need to be autonomous.”

“Do you want me to ask Laura?” Stiles asked.

“No, I don't want to lead her to believe that I'll share you. It's my intention to marry you once our lives are sorted out.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed, eyes widening in excitement, “I mean, I hoped, obviously...”

Derek nodded, pressing their foreheads together, “I have to get you safe, first.”

“I'm safe with you.”

“You _weren't_.”

“I am, and you're safe with me. We'll protect each other.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

Derek refused to speak to his mother after they were all released. His lawyer had made quick work of releasing Derek's family funds to him and he used it to check into a motel with Stiles. Scott was on board with following him and Derek petitioned his mother via a new lawyer to have ownership of IL. She didn't fight him, which surprised Derek since she had to know that he was purchasing IL just for Scott and that it was highly illegal. Derek would, of course, deny everything if asked.

While Scott spent his last two weeks of employment in the Hale household packing up Derek's rooms, Derek spent them pampering his laid up slave. It was a balancing act. Too much inactivity had Stiles twitching for something to distract him, and it was far too easy for him to fall back on unhealthy habits while they stayed in a motel. Derek had to find tasks he could do without straining his injuries or heart. He had a month before he had to go in for a stress test to make sure no permanent damage had been done when he'd been so brutally and repeatedly electrocuted. In the mean time, Derek was looking for homes for them both and had Stiles doing research into the perfect home.

It was on their third day in their temporary setting that Derek's father knocked on his door. Derek hesitated to let him in, but then decided he couldn't distance himself from everyone. His father had never done him wrong, despite having sat back during his mother and Peter's neglect and abuse. Derek silently allowed him entry and Stiles shifted from relaxed to obedient, moving to stand by the wall until he was asked to perform or given permission to rest again. Derek knew he'd been tense that day so he left him standing.

“Your mother doesn't know I'm here,” Jethro stated, eyes politely on Derek's forehead, “She wouldn't approve. She's angry.”

“Good.”

“I... I wanted you to know that Hale inheritance isn't the only one you're entitled to.”

“It... what?” Derek blinked.

“My family- Gibbs- they have an inheritance for dominant children as well. I didn't get it, obviously, but my kids can claim it. I was going to leave it to Laura, but I figure... she's already getting all the Hale property. Why not give it to the first kid leaving the nest? I contacted your grandpa and he approves. It's nothing exciting. Just an old warehouse in a small town called Beacon Hills. It's over a train station and had access to it back when the trains ran through there. Some sort of export thing. I think it was hinky, frankly, but it's all shut down now so it doesn't matter. Anyway. It would need some fixing up, but that's nothing a Dom with two slaves and a servant couldn't figure out.”

Derek nodded and accepted the small package his father held out to him, “Thank you.”

“I suppose you could sell it, too. I wouldn't be mad.”

“I'll look it over.”

“Well...” Jethro hesitated, “I guess that's all. I suppose...”

Derek moved forward quickly to pull his father into a tight hug before backing off just as fast. His father smiled softly before heading for turning away and leaving their room as silently as he always was.

“I think that's the most I've ever heard him talk,” Derek said softly.

“You take after him,” Stiles replied, “Even if you are a Dom.”

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, “Laura texted me an article earlier about being autistic and how eye contact avoidance is a thing. Except I also stare a lot.”

“Also a thing,” Stiles replied, moving back to the bed to sit down and pull Derek's laptop up again, “You creepy stare. That's not normal, alpha.”

“Yeah, so people tell me,” Derek sighed, “The whole... thing where I sometimes can't talk... it's like my words get stuck...”

Stiles nodded, glancing up at Derek's chin and smiling softly, “You have me now.”

“Yeah, I do. And Laura. And I'll send for Cora when she hits 18. Anyway, if I do have autism it's probably mild, but I'd like to do something about it.”

“Like what? See a shrink?” Stiles asked.

“No... for other... people...” Derek struggled.

Stiles gave him that radiant smile that told him he'd impressed his sweet serf.

“You could use some of the money to fund research or support for people misdiagnosed as submissives or switches due to autistic behavior.”

“Yeah, that,” Derek nodded, “Look into that.”

“Yes, alpha.”

It was on their second week in the motel, right when Derek was organizing two moving vans to get their stuff to Beacon's Hills, when he got the worst phone call of his life.

The Hale mansion had been burnt to the ground.

With the occupants in it.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Derek arrived at the hospital to collect Scott with IL at his side wearing a leash as required for recent runaways. Scott's asthma had nearly been his death during the fire, but he'd recovered nicely and the hospital had him started on new medication to keep him well. He was in Laura's room fussing over her, clearly trying to find stabilization in his submissive half now that he'd lost the household he cared for. When he saw IL he walked towards Derek and the alpha saw the dominant side come sliding out as Scott's shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted. He maintained only brief eye contact with Derek before holding out his hand for IL's leash. Derek handed it over and a look of peace slid across Scott's face.

“Derek, I'd like you to meet Isaac. Isaac, you may acknowledge Dominant Derek.”

“This one is pleased to meet you, Dominant Derek,” Isaac spoke in a surprisingly deep voice for his slight frame, “This one is grateful for all you have done and your understanding.”

Derek nodded and nudged Stiles, who quickly stepped forward to smile benevolently at Isaac, “Dominant Derek wants you to know that he will make sure that any threat against you is neutralized. We are moving to a new location and installing _massive_ security to protect us against Peter Hale's interference and any lingering situation of yours. He urges you to have your Switch come forward and speak with him should you have any indication that your father's murderer is nearby.”

“This one thanks you all,” Isaac replied, leaning against Scott's side.

Laura and Scott were the only survivors, and Derek was an emotionally constipated mess at the realization that he'd never get to make amends with his mother along with the loss of the rest of his family. Peter was on the loose and Derek was getting the hell out of dodge. He had what little survived the fire, Scott's previously packed belongings, and his own possessions all jammed into two moving vans and he was heading north to Beacon's Hills and his father's property as fast as he could with his slaves, servant, and the last surviving member of his family. Derek knew the legal implications of allowing a switch to keep a slave- and allowing a sexual relationship between someone who was not a voluntary slave- but it was clear that IL consented and he wasn't going to keep them apart. Eventually IL would no longer be a slave at all and they would be free to marry if they were still as madly in love when IL worked off his sentence.

Stiles hoped to find the real killer in the mean time, and his father was already looking into it. In some strange form of their own reconciliation, Stiles' father was treating him like a deputy and sending him cold cases. Stiles plied his hyperactive brain to it and threw him new tips, information he dug up, and the occasional illegally hacked video surveillance. Stiles' father had him listed as an anonymous source and would send him small payments for the info, apparently hoping to buy Stiles some freedom from Derek. Derek let Stiles keep it even though as his Dominant he had all rights to his funds unless Stiles stipulated it in his contract or withdrew from their contract. The contract was full slavery, so Derek letting him have an account full of cash was actually odd and had gotten him a few looks at the bank. Derek didn't want Stiles to feel as if he didn't have an out, but he was on the account and monitoring it in case Stiles used to go on a bender. So far his slave had come to him when a craving had hit him, apparently brought on by the hospital atmosphere when he'd been admitted, and Derek had helped him work through it.

With Laura and Derek now the sole heirs of the Hale fortune they were unbelievably rich and Derek planned to rebuild the warehouse as a huge, modern home for them with an insane amount of security. In the mean time they were staying just outside of Beacon's Hills at a very expensive hotel that boasted celebrity level privacy. If Peter showed up he'd have difficulty reaching them.

Stiles was much better and was eager to spend his time pampering Derek. Derek was going to have his slaves and servant work on the home they were building in order to keep them occupied and he himself would be continuing his education in building designer cars as well as taking a proper rope course. It felt as if everything was simultaneously falling apart and coming together and Derek was silent as stone as he dealt with the overwhelming emotions behind losing most of his family. His aunt, as tragedy would have it, had brought the kids back for the night. She and his cousins had also perished in the fire. Peter's absence from the hospital had him as the number one suspect once the clerk at the hotel had given the rest of them an alibi, but Derek being proven right was hardly a comfort.

The drive was quiet. Derek and Stiles were in one van with Laura while Scott drove with IL in the other. They reached the factory late at night Scott and Stiles decided that exploring it would be exciting. Derek rolled his eyes but followed them in case they ended up in danger. The entire bottom floor was filled with old train cars and grand stair cases that had probably been beautiful at one point. Stiles babbled about rebuilding it and how amazing it would be to throw parties there. Derek thought he was adorable if impractical. Laura wanted it to be a dance hall as well, so Derek figured he was outvoted and claimed the back area as a gym. The ticket booth, apparently, was going to be a bar. Derek was surrounded by divas and there was nothing he could do about it.

They checked into the hotel so late that the conceierge was yawning and fumbling for everything. Derek felt bad for disrupting his shift and was quick to move his pack up to their room rather than let him continue babbling about opening the kitchens for them. He insisted- with Stiles talking for him to confuse things further- that he'd rather have Stiles cook. The man was left with the impression that Derek was mute and practically chased them with his apologies.

The rooms were huge, with three private bedrooms for them and a full size kitchen and living room. Derek and Laura glanced at each other, narrowed eyes, and each bolted for the master suite. He beat her there by a hair and shoved her attempts to get into it back onto the living room floor. He laughed at her and gestured for Stiles to bring their things in. His slave gave him a bemused look and entered with their suitcases.

Laura picked herself off the floor with a light laugh and then paused on her way to her own room, “Hey, Der?”

“Mm?”

“I'm glad that you're... you now. I missed not doing that sort of thing with you when we were growing up.”

Stiles poked his head out and chirped, “You two will have plenty of time to beat each other up dominant style now.”

Stiles stomach growled LOUDLY, and the two Dominants laughed at his flustered expression. Derek motioned to the door, but when Stiles moved to follow him he shoved him back and pointed to the bedroom. Stiles nodded his understanding and returned to get their bedroom set up. It would be months of renovation on the warehouse before it was at least livable and probably years before they had it set up properly. If it hadn't had so much history Derek would have just abandoned it once again, but he liked having a connection to his family after their loss. In the mean time, the hotel was home and Stiles would make their rooms personal enough to make the homesickness lessen.

Derek headed out to grab them some food so his beautiful favorite could whip something up for them in the kitchen. The only thing open in the tiny little town was a gas station so Derek went in and gave the eggs and milk the evil eye until he decided he had no choice but to trust the dates on them were real. He brought them over to the counter along with a few other snacks and a few sticks of cheese. He was hoping Stiles could make an omelet out of the mess and the snacks certainly didn't hurt. He had bacon flavored jerky instead of bacon, but most of the people in the house were guys so they'd eat anything. He was standing at the register when he noticed a collar on the back wall among the cigarettes and a few odd pieces of jewelry. He'd been searching for the perfect collar for weeks, but all the most expensive ones seemed too feminine and he'd been determined to throw money at Stiles. This one was clearly a gimmick collar. It had symbols from Marvel characters on it and a cheep clasp and it would probably break long before their relationship even hit it's first fight, but it was perfect.

Derek gestured to it until the guy behind the counter caught on and handed it to him. He smiled at it briefly and added it to the pile. Derek drove home with a larger sense of peace than he'd experienced in a long, long time. He knew it was silly for a piece of pleather to give him that, but he couldn't wait to see Stiles' expression. Part of his treatment of his addiction was a life of extreme limitation, regulation, and deprivation. As such he didn't get the nice things he wanted by choice. Derek often saw him give novelty t-shirts a look of longing, but when Derek suggested he be allowed to wear them Stiles refused. This was different. This was a symbol of his commitment to Derek. He could wear it, and it could show his personality.

Derek reentered their temporary home to find Laura passed out and snoring on the couch. Stiles had set the small table for them, putting smaller plates in place for himself and Isaac so they could kneel beside their respective Dom's. Laura sat beside Derek on his left so Stiles would have room to kneel to his right. Scott was across from Derek. Equals. Scott behaved as a Dominant before him now rather than a submissive and Derek was sure that it was going to become their relationship. Scott wasn't a servant in their new household. He was a member.

Stiles was trying to be quiet so poor Laura didn't wake up, but when he hurried over for the food Derek motioned him to pull away and gestured to Scott to have Isaac continue. Scott whispered for Isaac who picked himself up from where he'd been resting his head on Scott's lap while kneeling on the floor at his feet. He yawned but didn't hesitate to take the bags from Derek and hurry to the kitchen to begin their late dinner/early breakfast. Derek grasped Stiles' hand and dragged him to their room for privacy, shutting the door and turning to face his beloved.

“Der?” Stiles asked, sensing his anticipation.

Derek pulled the collar from his pocket and Stiles clapped both hands over his mouth to smother his excited squeal. Derek's smile hurt his face as he clasped it onto his beloved's neck, keeping a finger in place so it wasn't too tight. Tears fell from Stiles' closed eyes as he held his chin up for Derek to lock the collar in place.

“It's beautiful on you, my favorite,” Derek whispered, speaking for the first time since the police had knocked on the motel room and shattered his world.

“Thank you, my alpha,” Stiles whispered, “Thank you for everything.”

“All I've done is just...”

“Don't,” Stiles' eyes opened and he met Derek's in a rare moment of leveling, “Don't brush us aside, Derek. This wasn't just a transfer of contract. My lifestyle may be the same in many aspects, but the intimacy is not and never will be just sex. I am _yours_ in a way that will never be written on paper.”

Derek cupped the back of his head to make sure that their eyes stayed connected in this special way that only Doms and Subs who truly loved each other allowed. He thought about all the uncertainty that laid before them and the pain behind and decided that with Stiles by his side he could face it all. Every monster that rose before them would be vanquished.

“And I am yours,” Derek promised.

 

 


End file.
